


Nobody's Fault But My Own

by koanju (verstehen)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 02:59:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verstehen/pseuds/koanju
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale was resolutely staring at the table in the interrogation room he’d been sitting in for at least the last hour. Beacon Hills was pretty small-time, compared to New York, but he was fairly sure the wait had been a deliberate tactic and rather than not having trained staff on hand to carry out the interrogation.</p>
<p>Derek Hale has been arrested for his sister's murder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody's Fault But My Own

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1001cranes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001cranes/gifts).



> Written for 1001cranes at her request for "a fic where Scott and Stiles are partners on a police force. The suspects usually start freaking out when Scott introduces himself as ‘Lycan Officer McCall’ but Stiles always smiles and reaches out to pat the suspect’s hand ever-so-gently, and says, “he’s really not the one you need to worry about.” 
> 
> I'd honestly meant to make it more about Scott and Stiles but the story in my head was for Derek. But that's okay, I suspect it came out better this way. 
> 
> Title taken from Beck's "Nobody's Fault But My Own," which is one of about six songs that are inspiration for this story.

Derek Hale was resolutely staring at the table in the interrogation room he’d been sitting in for at least the last hour. Beacon Hills was pretty small-time, compared to New York, but he was fairly sure the wait had been a deliberate tactic and rather than not having trained staff on hand to carry out the interrogation. He looked up and studied the two uniformed deputies stepping into the room. They were both about the same height, maybe an inch or two shorter than Derek himself. Both had brown hair and brown eyes and one of them, the one on the left, was breathing through his mouth. Both of the men looked about the same age though they had to be four or five years younger than he was.

Derek just watched the pair as the mouth-breather moved to lean against the wall behind Derek and the other one sat in the single chair across the table he was handcuffed to. “I’m Lycan Officer McCall,” the man said and Derek couldn’t help the slight raising of his eyebrows at that. Last he’d heard the Beacon Hills policy hadn’t been very werewolf friendly.

Of course, he hadn’t been back to Beacon Hills in over ten years, after the final investigation into the fire had closed. He’d gone so Laura wouldn’t have to.

“Oh, buddy,” Mouth-breather put in, moving so he was standing behind Derek and leaned over to meet his eyes. “He’s not the one you have to worry about.”

He couldn’t stop himself from snorting and relaxing into his chair. Neither one of these clowns were going to be giving him much trouble. “Any particular reason you’re here and my lawyer isn’t?” he asked, making sure to keep his voice as mild as possible even while making a point of staring down McCall. “After all, haven’t you heard? _Werewolves_ have rights now.”

"We’re just here to check on you," McCall said. He hadn’t submitted yet — dropped his eyes or looked away, not that Derek really expected him to if he was working with the police — and just leaned forward, resting his arms on the table and lacing his fingers together. Mouth-breather hadn’t moved back either, the pair working to make sure Derek felt confined and boxed in. Most werewolves reacted badly to feeling trapped and if he showed even as benign a sign as letting his eyes change, he’d forfeit all his rights and they could lock him up without a trial, without a phone call, without a lawyer. 

Things were better for werewolves now than they’d been when Derek was a kid but it wasn’t perfect. 

Still, he had to admit to being a little impressed at the pair’s teamwork, even if it’d net them nothing. “Check on me, huh?" He looked over at the Mouth-breather who still hadn’t introduced himself and smiled. “If you’re being so hospitable, why don’t you just go fetch me some water?" 

"Lycan terrorists don’t get water," Mouth-breather said but he moved back and away, retaking his place holding up the wall. “What I can’t figure out is what exactly the movement has to gain by killing your sister." 

He wanted to lash out, clench his fists, or tighten his jaw, or yell, and snarl at the two idiots. Derek didn’t, contenting himself with letting the Mouth-breather’s jab at why he was in this room become kindling for his anchor. Derek didn’t do anything but say, “I. Want. My. Lawyer." He paused and smiled, doing his best to make it a smile and not simply a baring of teeth. “And the next time you come into this room while my lawyer is not here, I’ll make sure you both lose your jobs for violating my civil rights." 

Derek sat smiling as McCall and Mouth-breather picked themselves up and left and continued to smile down at the table while he waited. He was sure that he was being watched and he preferred not to let on how he was feeling. 

The next time the door opened it was to the click of heels. He looked up at the smile he was wearing turned more genuine as he took in her artfully styled curly blonde hair, bright red corset top, gray skirt and matching gray jacket slung over her shoulders. Erica Reyes shut the door behind her and raised her eyebrows. “Derek."

"Erica." He straightened and nodded to the door. “They have a werewolf." 

She reached into her purse and pulled out a yellow legal pad and a pen, moving to sit in the seat McCall had vacated. Pushing the pad across the table to Derek, he frowned and awkwardly grabbed the pen even hampered by the reinforced cuffs and started to write. “I’m sorry about Laura," Erica told him quietly and he knew it was sincere. Erica had been the first person Laura had recruited after their family had been destroyed. 

"Me too." He licked his lips as he accounted for the last twenty-four hours. What he’d been doing, who he had been with, and what he knew of where Laura was and had been doing. “Apparently they think I’m a ‘lycan terrorist,’" he told her. “And the werewolf and his partner were in here to try and intimidate me even after I’d called you." 

Erica’s smile was vicious at that. “I think I’ll go introduce myself to Beacon Hills’s  _Lycan_  Officer." The chair screeched against the floor as she pushed it away from the table to stand up. “I’ll be back in five minutes." 

"It’s good to see you, Erica," Derek’s voice was soft. “I —  _we,_ we all missed you."

Derek didn’t wear a watch and there wasn’t a clock within the interrogation room. The walls had obviously been reinforced with some sort of sound-proofing guarding specifically against a werewolf eavesdropping from the inside. Even aside from his mild disappointment at missing the show Erica was undoubtedly putting on, sitting in the cloaked room was  _weird_. Derek had lived with white noise his entire life — conversations, insects, cars, power lines — all at a range that no human could experience. And it was just white noise, something in the background, for him until it was gone.

Just like when he’d heard Laura’s heart stop across town.

He tapped his fingers lightly against the table, letting his nails click rhythmically while he waited for Erica to come back and collect his information.

When the door opened for a third time since he’d been arrested for his sister’s murder, it was Erica and she was trailed by McCall and his pet. Erica’s smile was still vicious and the two cops didn’t look happy at all. Derek figured that meant he was probably getting released. “I think you have something to say to my client?”

McCall shuffled his weight back and forth between his right and left leg before centering himself. “You’re free to go, Mr. Hale.”

“Don’t leave Beacon Hills,” Mouth-breather added, scowling. “You’re still our number one suspect in the death of lycan Laura Hale.”

“Mr. Hale and I  _both_  will be staying in Beacon Hills until the case is resolved to  _our_ satisfaction, Officer Stilinski,” Erica said, cutting off Derek before he could describe in detail exactly what he was going to do to Laura’s killer.  “I’d also suggest you and your entire police force reacquaint yourself with evidentiary rules and their application to werewolf rights.  _Being a werewolf_  is not enough evidence to arrest someone for murder.” She sniffed and let her eyes track up and down Stilinski. “Neither of you have changed much since high school but I thought you’d at least have learned better from your father, Stiles. He never violated anyone’s civil rights – even when werewolves didn’t have them.”

“And it got him killed.” Stilinski glared at Erica and shrugged off McCall’s hand from his shoulder. He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and stomped toward Derek and unlocked his handcuffs. “I’ll be watching, Hale.”

Derek rubbed his wrists and stood. “I remember your dad,” he told Stilinski. And he did remember the Sheriff’s kind words and perseverance at trying to close a case and bring a killer to justice when the entire justice system said the victims deserved it. “He was good at his job.” He gave Stilinski a brief smile and this time it _was_  a baring of his teeth. 

"Derek," Erica snapped and Derek snagged the legal pad he had been writing on and followed her out of the police station. 

Neither of them spoke until they reached Erica’s car. Derek wasn’t really a car person but he could appreciate her red classic Mustang convertible. Erica had spent so many years never expecting to be able to drive, she’d learned everything about cars and as soon as she had the opportunity and the means, she’d grabbed hold of her dream car, restored it, and maintained it herself. Before she and Boyd had _… left_ , Erica had once told him that banging around in the garage had been her best form of stress relief, especially in law school. “My car’s probably still at the motel," he said, slipping into the passenger seat. 

"Your car’s probably already impounded." She revved the engine and pulled away slowly and carefully from the parking lot. The cops were probably watching their every move. “So here’s how it’s going to go, Derek. You and I are going to sit in your motel room and  _stay there_  until the police get their heads out of their asses and find Laura’s real killer." 

He clenched his jaw and shook his head. “No. Somebody killed  _Laura_ , Erica. I’m not going to sit around and just wait for them to figure it out." He curled his hands tight around his thighs, letting his claws prick into his skin. The pain, the sting, was almost a relief. “I need to find the alpha." 

"And kill it, right?" Erica deepened her voice, making it raspier, in a deliberate mockery of Derek’s own. “You’ll never be the alpha she was." 

He didn’t know what to say to that, not really. The loss of Laura was too fresh to refute the accusation, even if he  _had_  thought she was wrong. So Derek just looked out the window and tried his best to explain. “It’s justice. And keeping it in the family." There’d been a Hale alpha for over three hundred years, one of the longest werewolf lines existing in the U.S. to date. He wasn’t about to let the legacy be taken away from the Hales even if he was the last true Hale left. 

"It’s stupidity," Erica told him shortly. 

"You’ve changed." He leaned his forehead against the mustang’s window. “Ten years ago you would’ve been the first one helping me." 

"I grew up, Derek." She paused and he stiffened as he felt Erica drop her hand on his shoulder. “And so did Laura. She wanted to do it the right way." 

"The  _human_  way," he muttered and shut his eyes. “We’re not human." 

"That’s part of the contract, Derek; we live by their laws and they don’t slaughter all of us." 

"No, we live by their laws and  _they still slaughter us_. They just do it  _legally_ now," Derek shouted at her. 

She jerked her hand back and growled at him, the sound reverberating through the car and making the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand up at the implied threat. “Don’t yell at me, Derek. You don’t have the right."

"If you feel that way, you might as well take me back to McCall and Stilinski." 

They didn’t talk the rest of the way to the motel. 

Erica pulled into the circle drive of the Holiday Inn. For a town the size of Beacon Hills, Derek had always been puzzled by the way there was only one motel in town. “Go get me a room key," Erica ordered, barely pausing the car long enough for Derek to get out. She obviously expected him to comply but —

It didn’t matter what Erica thought he’d do.  _Derek’s_  alpha was dead. 

Besides, he couldn’t book a room for her even he wanted to. His wallet and cell were both in his glove box and a quick look at where he’d parked the Camaro showed that Erica was right. Either it’d been stolen or impounded. Either way, he had no money, no identification. 

Derek walked through the sliding doors, nodded at the clerk at the front desk, and kept going until he could exit out one of the side doors, out of Erica’s view. She’d catch up to him as soon as she realized but Derek figured he could at least make it to the murder site and investigate before she tracked him down. He’d been the one to teach her how to hide her scent from other werewolves after Laura had bitten her. 

He’d actually been halfway to the last place he heard Laura’s heartbeat when the police had stopped and arrested him. Apparently running at werewolf speed toward a dead body —  _toward Laura_  — was good enough for a murder charge in Beacon Hills. He learned from his mistake and stuck to the woods, out of sight, as he headed to the warehouse district. Laura had been there to check out a facility she’d been interested in buying; she’d wanted to renovate the place and convert it to a gym. 

Laura had wanted to reestablish a Hale presence in Beacon Hills and it’d gotten her killed.

The smell was the first thing that hit him, lingering traces of blood and Laura all over the warehouse even from a hundred yards away. The lights and police working to process the scene came next and Derek just stood there, watching patterns and looking for a way to slip past the humans as they worked. He could find information better and faster than a human could and Derek didn’t have to wait for machines to analyze data either. 

His attention was caught by the arrival of an SUV onto the scene. McCall and Stilinski tumbled out and headed straight into the warehouse; this meant he probably wasn’t going to be able to get inside. 

"If he’s really innocent, he’ll probably come here," McCall was saying. 

"If he’s really guilty, he’ll probably come here," Stilinski contradicted. “To see what evidence he missed when he tried to cover it up." 

"Hale and his lawyer really got to you." McCall’s voice had hushed, probably to keep the other humans nearby from eavesdropping. “All that stuff about your dad." 

"My dad fought for the Hales and it got him killed as a sympathizer." Stilinski’s words weren’t angry, the way Derek would have expected from the revelation. 

He wondered if Laura had known what happened to the man who’d helped them after the fire and again, later, when Kate Argent — the government’s top Lycan Handler — had been identified and exposed as the one who had been targeting and killing peaceful werewolf families. 

"Besides," Stilinski continued and Derek turned his thoughts away from the dead. “Hale does have a record of illegal activities associated with the lycan movement." 

"And no one ever found out exactly who killed Kate Argent," McCall agreed with a sigh. “Allison blamed Laura Hale." 

"For Kate and Victoria." 

Derek heard a branch break and turned; Erica had deliberately let him know he was approaching. “Did you find out what you wanted to know?" She moved so she was standing next to him and leaned slightly against his arm. He realized she was shorter and looked down. Erica was barefoot and carrying her heels. “What, you think I’m going to ruin a perfect good pair of Louboutins running after you?" She rolled her eyes at him. “Let’s go back to the motel, Derek, before someone comes to check on us."

"I’m surprised you came." He reached over and tugged the shoes out of her hands, holding them easily in his left hand. He used his right to grab her wrist lightly. 

"I figured you didn’t have anyone else to call." He appreciated she was willing to be honest back. “And all that stuff that happened after Aiden. That’s in the past, Derek." She licked her lips and started leading him from the warehouse. “Deucalion?" 

Derek nodded slowly. “He’s still in charge." 

"You should challenge him." 

"Deaton told me that once too," he confessed. “That I shouldn’t join them. I should  _lead_  them." 

"But you had Laura." Erica twisted her arm out of his grip and offered her hand. Derek took it, clasping their palms together as he let her lead him. 

They walked together, slowly and silently, until Erica made her offer. Derek had been expecting it but that didn’t make the missing piece of his heart devoted to Laura ache any less. “You should come back to L.A. with me when this is over. Boyd will be happy to see you again and it’ll do you good to get away from Deucalion.” 

He shook his head and redirected her attention back to the present. “What do the Argents have to do with McCall and Stilinski?”

She sighed but answered the question. “McCall dated one in high school. Allison, Chris Argent’s daughter. She’s the head of the family now, I think. If you’re asking, I assume they kept in contact.”

“Then I definitely can’t trust them to find Laura’s killer,” he muttered and dropped Erica’s hand. 

“I’ll talk to the Sheriff about the conflict of interest but I don’t think we’ll get much traction.” She hummed, obviously calculating options in her head. “It might be better to call in the federal autho —”

“Yeah, I’d  _really_  get a fair shake with the people who branded me a terrorist.” Derek cut her off and picked up his pace. 

“You’re the one who agreed to go —”

“BECAUSE LAURA ORDERED ME TO!” he shouted at her and instantly regretted it. He’d never told anyone that before. Never explained why he’d joined Alpha to anyone, not even to the alpha himself, though Derek suspected Deucalion had figured it out on his own. After all, he’d wanted Laura, not Derek. “Consider that part of attorney-client privilege. Let’s just go to the motel,” Derek told Erica quietly. “We’re done here.” 

“I just hope you don’t find yourself permanently done, Derek.” Her soft words followed him just as easily as the sounds of the cracking of branches and crinkling leaves as the pair of them raced through the woods.

_My family’s dead. I never knew her plans. Laura’s gone_ , Derek thought,  _I’m already done_. 

\---

Derek wasn’t particularly surprised to see Erica absent from breakfast given their argument after leaving the warehouse. She hadn’t even bothered to take the other twin bed in his room, getting her own instead. Derek found it something of a relief. It meant the faint smell of Laura’s minty perfume lingered on the pillows and bed sheets. The “do not disturb” sign had been hanging on their door since they’d checked in a week ago. 

McCall’s presence, standing awkwardly at the front desk in plain view of buffet, was a surprise. He was in uniform and this time Derek noticed the red stripe along his badge indicating both his status as a lycan officer and his werewolf rank: alpha. 

Derek ignored him and headed straight for the food. The buffet wasn’t bad though Laura had complained the eggs were overcooked underneath the warmers. Derek’s skin prickled as he filled his plate and he knew McCall was watching him, judging him, and probably even planning on how he was going to attack the next interrogation. 

When Derek dropped into a seat in the corner of the breakfast area, McCall moved to sit directly across from him, “Mr. Hale.” He paused, waiting for the expected response. Derek didn’t bother. McCall sighed. “I’ve come to inform you that you have been officially cleared in the investigation into Alpha Hale’s murder. Your lawyer gave us your account of your whereabouts at the time of her death and we have several witnesses to support your statement.” Derek kept his eyes on his food, concentrating on shoveling eggs into his mouth as quickly as possible. “The Beacon Hills Sheriff’s department extends its official apology for the trouble and our condolences for your loss.” 

As much as he was trying to stay out of it and ignore the kid, Derek couldn’t help himself. He snorted. “They sent a  _lycan officer_  to tell me this,” he pointed out. 

“I volunteered,” McCall said, his tone both a warning and a correction. 

“To avoid any of your fellow officers the trouble of trying to shirk the duty of talking to the  _lycan terrorist_ ,” he spat, quoting Stilinski’s words right back at him. 

“Are you planning on staying in Beacon Hills long, Mr. Hale?” Derek wasn’t surprised that McCall ignored the accusation. 

“I’ll be here until Laura gets justice.” He smiled, hard and vicious, at the other man. And then continued, because he knew Laura would have wanted it, “At least."

“We also are mandated to remind you that you’re required to file the change of alpha paperwork to both the resident Beacon Hills alpha,” McCall tapped his chest. “And to the government seat of the jurisdiction in which you live within the next forty-eight hours to be within the seventy-two hour deadline. If you don’t, you’ll be classified an omega and the Lycan Hunters will have permission to find, hunt, and exterminate you.” 

The metal fork snapped in his hand and Derek internally cursed his lapse of control — the only thing he had which he was actually still proud of. He knew he had options — Erica would do it, Deucalion definitely would — and the paperwork wasn’t always an indicator of who a  _real_  alpha was… Still, the thought of the government dictating something as important as  _family_  still made him angry. The time frame made it all worse. 

“When will Laura’s body be released?” he asked instead. 

“When the investigation is finished.” McCall hesitated and Derek watched his jawline twitch. “You should take your lawyer’s advice and stay in your hotel, Mr. Hale. You don’t have any friends in this town.” 

“The Argents killed them all.” 

Derek listened the quiet conversation of the family of five eating breakfast in the middle of the area and focused on his food while McCall gathered himself after Derek’s jab. 

“The Argents are respected government employees,” McCall’s formal tone was under laid with a tight and angry growl. Derek knew he probably shouldn’t be poking an alpha like this, especially one working in law enforcement, but McCall and all the others like him, those that embraced the  _lycan_  ideology of humans, were simply perpetuating the systemic destruction of werewolves. It figured Gerard’s methods would be more effective than Kate’s; Kate was brutal and violent and Gerard… well, Gerard just used the tools the system gave him and began to wipe out everything that made werewolves  _werewolves_. Even their name. “They’re better than you, Mr. Hale,” McCall said.

“I think you should go now,” Derek told McCall, resisting the urge to change; to  _take_  the alpha status from someone whom obviously didn’t deserve it. “You and your Sheriff will be hearing from my lawyer about your obvious prejudice and conflict of interest in pursuing my sister’s case.”

As much as he’d like to put McCall in his place, it wouldn’t help his situation. McCall stood abruptly, the chair screeching against the floor. “Was your sister going to challenge for Beacon Hills?”

Derek looked up at him and smiled. “There have been Hale werewolves in Beacon Hills since it was founded. Laura didn’t need to challenge; this territory  _is_  hers.” He swallowed around a lump in his throat. “Ours,” Derek corrected. “You’re the one squatting, McCall.” 

“The Hales abandoned this territory after —”

“Peter Hale has been living in the long-term care ward of Beacon Hills Hospital for sixteen years, since he was admitted after  _Kate Argent_  burned my family alive. That’s enough to hold the claim by werewolf law  _and_   _lycan_  law.” He enjoyed the way McCall’s face reddened in anger or embarrassment. Derek tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows, like a new thought was occurring to him. “Wait… doesn’t that make  _you_  a suspect in Laura’s murder? Since you’d have to abdicate the territory now that Laura is —  _was_  — coming home?” He knew his cheap shot at McCall was weakened by his slip. 

McCall flashed his red eyes at Derek and stormed away. Derek rolled his shoulders, trying to remove the tension the confrontation caused and fished out his cell phone from his pants pocket, dreading the call he was about to make. He called up his contacts and hit ‘dial’ with a sigh. 

“Yes?” 

“Deucalion — it’s Derek.” He licked his lips and said it. “I need a favor.”

\---

Striding into the Sheriff’s station, a file of paperwork in his hands with Erica like a Valkyrie at his shoulder, felt more satisfying than Derek expected. 

There’d been a moment, after he’d told Erica he’d asked Deucalion to officially claim him as a beta that he was sure she was going to walk out on him and leave him to rot. He’d been half-afraid he was going to have to call Deucalion back and have him send one of his lawyers to Beacon Hills. It was bad enough Deucalion promised to show up himself to “help" find and kill the person who’d killed Laura.

The werewolf who’d killed Laura. It was the only explanation for Derek not receiving the status after her death, especially since Peter was… unfit. 

He should probably go see Peter soon. 

Derek stopped at the front desk and gave his best charming smile to the female deputy on duty. “Hi." 

He watched her cheeks flush lightly before she smiled back. “What can I do for you?" 

"We have some paperwork for McCall and Stilinski," Erica answered. “And we were hoping to deliver it in person. Are they in?" 

"No, they’re out on patrol at the moment." Derek let his smile drop a little, as if he was disappointed, and the deputy leaned forward. “But the patrol’s been quiet, I think. If you two don’t mind waiting, I can call them back to the station to talk," she offered. 

Derek hit her full-blast with the most grateful expression he could conjure. “That’d be great, Deputy," he paused and looked at her name badge. “Edgers. You’re a real help." He caught Erica rolling her eyes and the trooped over to the meager square of chairs that made up the “lobby" of the station. 

"It’s not too late to change your mind." Erica’s voice was even and brusque but the hand she had on Derek’s elbow was reassuring. “About Deucalion. You know what danger you’re putting yourself in by declaring for him." 

"I know." He pulled his arm out of her grip. “I’m not declaring for him."

"Does  _he_  know that?" He looked over at her hard expression and sighed. 

"Yes. He knows. He also knows I intend to reclaim the Hale alpha status." 

"So what’s he getting in return?" 

Derek looked down and to the side, shaking his head. “I can’t tell you that. But it’s nothing that will come back on you or your pack." 

She growled, a fully frustrated and human noise. “God, how can you be so  _dense_ , Derek? I’m not worried about  _us_. Deucalion wouldn’t dare try. I’m worried about  _you_." 

"I don’t know why." He’d meant the words to sound confident and sure but they came out more confused and even a little lonely. Derek laced his fingers together in his lap and squeezed, tight, feeling the bones shift and crack. “There’s no point. I’ll be fine. I  _am_  fine." 

"Bullshit. Laura — the last of your family — just died. You’re not fine and you’re not going to be fine!" 

He stood abruptly and turned his back on her. “Leave it alone, Erica, I know what I’m doing." 

This was why he’d called Deucalion. For all the man’s ego and fanaticism, Derek had knew deep in his core Deucalion would let Derek do what he needed to do: avenge Laura’s death and claim the power that was rightfully  _his_. 

Erica had gained her status fighting off a man who’d wanted to take something she didn’t want to give him. It’d been self-defense and she was a bitten wolf anyway. She didn’t understand and he knew that if he’d even given her an inch of leeway, she would have forced him back to L.A. with her “for his own good." 

Derek was done with letting other people decide what was good for him.

It took another twenty minutes of awkward silence before McCall and Stilinski returned. Even the human deputy, Edgars, had picked up on the waves of rage rolling off Erica at the way Derek was treating her. As much as she'd changed in the five years since being an alpha, she hadn't changed  _that_  much. Derek still knew exactly how to piss her off.

"You have paperwork for us?" Stilinski prompted, his tone annoyed. 

Derek offered the stack of paperwork. "We'll stay until you sign each and every one and give us confirmation of receipt. Wouldn't want more mistakes with the legal system, would we?" 

McCall snorted and snatched the papers out of Derek's hand, flipping through them. "Change of alpha form, a request for different jurisdiction to handle the investigation, a  _request to challenge for alpha status_?" His voice rose with disbelief at each new form he flipped through and listed.

Stilinski tugged the papers out of McCall's hands and glared. "Why don't we go in the back for this?" His tone didn't make it much of a suggestion.

"To your desks, I hope?" Erica prompted. "As my client is no longer a suspect and shouldn't merit a lycan-proof interrogation room." 

Stilinski's jaw tightened but he nodded and led the four of them further into the station. Derek made a point of looking around for the two deputies that had arrested him and giving them both his most charming smile. Laura used to call it 'terrifying.' 

Stilinki led them to a room surrounded by glass windows and blinds; it was obviously meant to be an interview room of some sort. Probably for witnesses or family members. Anybody who wasn't a suspect. 

Derek dropped into one of the chairs, slouching a little against the wood, and raised his eyebrows. "Are you going to have a problem with the paperwork?" 

Stilinski and McCall exchanged a quick look before Stilinski dropped the stack on the table. "I'm sure it'll be fine. Everything but your request to challenge which we, understandably, have a problem with. As police officers, we just can't condone vigilantism." Stilinski eased himself down into a chair across from Derek while McCall and Erica both elected to stand. "And it's well-within Sc -- Alpha McCall's rights to deny your request as the residential alpha of Beacon Hills."

Derek leaned forward, staring hard at Stilinski, "I told McCall he's the one squatting. The paperwork for that is in there too. He doesn't have the right to do anything in Beacon Hills. This town belongs to the Hales."

"The Hales don't have an alpha anymore, Derek." Stilinski smiled easily. "I'm not afraid of you, lycan."

Derek leaned forward even more, bracing his arms on the table, and made a point of inhaling deeply. "I'm not the one you should be afraid of." He glanced over at McCall. "What do you think is going to happen when your friend loses his territory?  _That's_  what you should be afraid of." He paused and inhaled again, certain McCall was catching on. "Besides, there's a bitter scent that goes with deception." He always thought it smelled like smoke, even before Kate Argent burned his life away. That was why he’d never noticed it on her; the smell of smoke was so intertwined with her basic scent and she’d carried packs of cigarettes and lighters with her everywhere. "And you both wear it so thickly it's a struggle to breathe." 

McCall and Stilinski exchanged another, longer, look, before McCall sat down. “Do you know who might have killed your sister, Derek?” McCall asked.

Derek looked back toward Erica and she nodded slightly, an indicator for him to go ahead. “Any number of people who wanted this territory. Like you,” he pointed at McCall. “The Argents still hate us for exposing Kate Argent as a serial killer.”

“And for her suspicious death on the way to her sentencing hearing,” Stilinski muttered. The words were quiet enough a human wouldn’t have heard them but Derek doubted the younger man forgot he was sitting with three werewolves.

“Anyone else?”

Derek shook his head. They did have enemies picked up over the years, especially from his time assisting Deucalion, but he wasn’t about to share those names with these two. “Now are you going to sign the paperwork or do I have to talk to your Sheriff?” He reached over and touched Erica’s wrist lightly, an invitation for her to sit down. Derek had a feeling they might be here a while. Both Stilinski and McCall seemed like the stubborn type.

“I’ll sign and approve  _some_  of it,” McCall answered and reached into his shirt pocket for a pen, beginning to page through the paperwork.

“And while we’re waiting,” Stilinski said as he leaned back in his chair, bring his arms up behind his head. “You can tell us all about Alpha Ennis Barnes.”

Derek told Laura about the fire a year later. It’d taken that long for the clog of grief to work through his throat so he could get it out. Part of him had wanted to just hide it, hide his own part in what happened –  _he left the door unlocked for her, told her all about the basement and tunnels, so sure she was there to protect them from a threat_  – but Laura was his sister and she deserved to know. He’d just have to accept his punishment for the things he’d done wrong and Laura was the only one left who could do that for him. He’d known she’d taken after their mother; that had been pretty obvious when she’d clawed her way to Second at fourteen, toppling both Uncle Peter and Aunt Jolene and all of their cousins. But Derek had  _underestimated_  how angry she would be at his stupidity.

While she was as vicious, Laura had never burned hot the way their mother had. Talia Hale’s temper blew up like an inferno that left dust and ruins behind – but never lasted very long. Their father, though, he’d been the one with a cold anger, who could plot and be patient, trick his way to what he wanted. Laura’s anger took after him and Derek had spent the next five years dealing with the consequences of that coldness.

He’d loved his family without reservation but as a teenager he’d resented them too. His mother’s favorite punishment had been to force an offender into human form for a set length of time. She’d been a strong enough alpha that just her word could stop a beta from shifting back and forth.

But Derek was different. A shifter's form resembles the kind of person they are and unlike the rest of his family his fullshift didn’t resemble a wolf… so much as a wolfhound. A  _dog_.

He had the strength, the agility, and the power of a werewolf but lacked the wolf form. Peter used to say he lacked the killer instinct that made a "real" Hale. 

It had made him the butt of every joke from the first time he’d fullshifted when he was eleven. That was the form his mother trapped him in and, later, after he confessed what he’d done Laura had ordered him to stay shifted for five years unless he was working with and training her new betas. It’d been easier in some ways because emotions like grief or anger were muted; he didn’t have responsibilities like rent or a job and she’d never sent him back to school after she’d taken him back to New York with her after the fire. Laura never had his mother’s strength though and Derek would shift back to human in the night while she was sleeping.

Until Marco had shown up, claiming he had information to prove Kate Argent planted the evidence she’d used to wiggled out of a censure for an attack on a werewolf family. A  _censure_  for killing children.

So Laura had let Marco in and when he’d tried to leverage his information for fucking her, Laura had broken him and sent Derek away while she wrenched everything he ever knew out of his head. Six months later, the shifting prohibition had been lifted and Laura was sending him to Beacon Hills to sign paperwork and watch with Sheriff Stilinski as Kate Argent was dragged out the mansion they’d established in the six years since the Hales had been destroyed. And a month after that, Laura had ordered him to Deucalion.

Derek hadn't fullshifted since. 

“There’s nothing to tell,” Derek answered and he suspected even Stilinski could tell he was lying. 

“And it’s beyond the scope of your investigation as Marco Barnes is dead and left behind no survivors,” Erica cuts in sharply. “Not that you  _should_  be investigating this case.”

McCall’s expression tightened as he looked up from the paperwork. “None of these pages have a residence listed for you other than the Hale property and that was taken by the county years ago.”

“Laura bought it back.” Derek leaned back in his chair. “That means it’s mine now –“

“At least until the will is read, right?” Stilinski interrupted him smoothly. “You might not have been directly responsible for your sister’s death but that doesn’t mean you didn’t arrange it. I understand the Hales managed to maintain significant holdings even after what she donated to the lycan movement.” He grinned, as if his words indicated he’d won an argument.

Derek just rolled his eyes and made himself comfortable. “I’ll find a place to live this week. Seems Beacon Hills is in a bit of a downturn since my family was murdered,” he said, thinking of the warehouses, the train station, the mall, and the way so many of the prominent families that used to live here and cut and run. “So I imagine I can find something within my price range easily.”

“You’ll have to submit,” McCall told him, looking up from the paperwork and flaring his eyes red.

“No. I don’t. You’re the  _provisional,"_ Derek took great relish in saying the word. "Alpha in residence, until I reclaim it from the werewolf who killed my sister.” His words were blunt enough to cause Erica to sigh.

“Derek, stop talking.”

“They already know,” he pointed to the paperwork on the table. “ _That_  tells them.”

“Listen, you –“

“Stiles!” McCall snapped, cutting off his partner, before shaking his head. He slid a single piece of paper across the table. Erica snatched it before Derek could pick it up or examine it. “I’m afraid you’ll just have to seek power a different way.” He smiled easily. “If Deucalion doesn’t kill you first.”

“Don’t worry,” Erica said, her tone vicious. “We’ll appeal and your decision will be overturned for conflict of interest, McCall. You’ll be lucky if you keep your job.”

“I’m not worried.” McCall nods to the papers and Stilinski snags them. “I’ve got an in with the Sheriff and with the regional Lycan Hunters.”

Stilinski stood up and Derek watched the lines around the younger man’s eyes tighten as he glared. “I’ll go get your copies now and you can leave. I suggest you leave  _completely_. Before things get even worse for the Hales. You’ve still got one relative left, right?”

Derek clenched his teeth together and stood. “Nice to see that the police still don’t care about  _real_  justice or truth. I guess the last good cop died with Stilinski’s dad.”

McCall reached over and gripped Stilinski’s shoulder tightly, squeezing. Derek wondered vaguely if the gesture was a warning or a comfort. Either way, it told him something he needed to know about McCall’s pack: Stilinski was important. The pair left the room, splitting up, as Derek watched Stilinski head toward an industrial copier in the corner of the main squad room. “McCall’s right,” Erica told him softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“About what?”

“The Sheriff here is Chris Argent.” Derek gave her a flat look and sighed.

“It’s never easy, is it?”

Erica’s lips curled up slightly. “Not for you, Derek. Laura used to tell me you were cursed.” From her tone of voice, Derek knew Erica meant it as a joke and maybe even took Laura’s meaning as a joke.

It had never been a joke. Laura had meant it when she’d said Derek was  _a_ curse. “Stilinski’s done,” he said, pointing out to where the man was coming back with copies. “Let’s go. I want to go check on Peter after the threat they made.” 

Erica sighed and shifted her weight, a sign of her nerves, before reaching out to touch Derek’s elbow. “I’m heading back to L.A., then. I’ll keep working on the appeal for your hunt but I don’t need to be here to do it.” She squeezed, her nails digging into his skin. “Don’t do anything stupid, Derek. I’ll miss you if you get yourself killed.”

He tugged his arm out of her grip and thought fondly of the days in which he could order her around, before she’d become an alpha in her own right. “I’m not going to get killed.”

“One way or another, you are,” Erica said sadly and turned around and walked away. Derek reached up and ran a hand through his hair, suddenly tired, and the day was really only beginning. Worse, he knew he’d basically driven away his best ally in this mess but Erica couldn’t help. Not really. Beacon Hills wasn’t L.A.; she didn’t know the players in this game anymore. She didn’t know Deucalion and she wasn’t connected to the Hale family by bite anymore.

This wasn’t Erica’s problem.

He dropped his hand and approached Stilinski. “You done?”

“Here.” Stilinski shoved the paperwork at Derek. “We’ll be watching you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sure, you do that. Then you can see me find and kill the werewolf who murdered Laura. I’m sure fun times will be had by all.” He glanced over at McCall, sitting at one of the desks. “Your friend isn’t stable.”

“Worry about yourself, Derek,” Stilinski snapped. “Scott’s doing just fine.”

“You’ve got an interesting definition of ‘fine’ if it includes threatening a man in a coma, put there by your Sheriff’s _sister_.”

“I’m not particularly a fan of the Argents either.” There was history in Stilinski’s tone and expression Derek wished he was familiar with. “But that’s got _nothing_ to do with Scott and his relationship with the Argents. Nor how he treats you.”

“Maybe you should tell him that,” Derek muttered, unable to believe the nerve of the cop. “Because apparently he’s got a problem with me because of what _they_ did to us.”

“No, he’s got a problem with what you’ve done to _them_. Kate Argent’s cut throat ringing a bell?” Stilinski smirked and raised his eyebrows.

“That had nothing to do with me.” Derek’s answer was careful, in case McCall was listening, even as he folded the papers Stilinski had given him.

Not that it really mattered now anyway. It wasn’t like Laura could really be hurt for killing Kate now.

“Yeah, I believe that.” Derek ignored Stilinski’s skeptical tone. “Just watch yourself. The Hales have been gone from Beacon Hills a long time. You might want to rethink staying. This is an Argent town now.”

“Then it’s about time someone changed that,” he told the younger man simply and then turned to go.

Stilinski grabbed his elbow to stop him. Derek looked down on the pale hand and long fingers wrapped around his jacket and then looked up at Stilinski, raising his eyebrows. Stilinski immediately let him go. “I meant it; your uncle’s in no danger from Scott. You keep pissing him off though,” Stilinski’s smile was a little manic and sent a shiver down Derek’s spine. He’d seen that sort of smile on Kate’s face, after the fire, on Deucalion’s face after he took and killed a new beta. That sort of smile promised _bad things_. “And you’ll have to deal with me.”

Derek deliberately ignored the threat. “Where can I get my car?”

Stilinski snorted. “It’s out back but it’ll cost you three hundred dollars to get it out of impound.”

“Yeah, right.” Derek shook his head. “Why don’t you go get my car and I _don’t_ –“ He cut himself off with a quiet huff. “Just get my car. It should never have been impounded in the first place. The only reason you took it is because I’m a werewolf. Any other suspect, it’d still be parked at the hotel.”

Stilinski’s face screwed up and Derek watched the tips of his ears turn red. “Fine. This isn’t an admission you’re right though,” he said sharply. “Consider it our apology for the arrest mix-up.”

“My wallet better still be in there.” Derek watched him stomp away, feeling satisfied.

Of course, Stilinski did what he said he would – got Derek’s car out of the impound lot. Unfortunately, he did it at the pace of a snail and it took another two hours before Derek could leave the station and head to the hospital.

It’d been ten years since he’d been in the place and only a few times before that. Werewolves generally didn’t need hospitals and Eric, his human little brother, had been very healthy before he’d been killed. He just didn’t like the place. It was too bright and busy and full of the acrid smells of medicine and healing and dying. He wandered a bit, looking at maps and signs to direct him to the long-term care ward, before giving up and stopping at a nurse’s station in the middle of a hallway.

“Excuse me?”

The woman who looked up at his words was pretty, in a tired sort of way, with silver-shot curly black hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. Her blue scrubs accentuated her tanned skin and the laugh lines on her face. A quick ring check on her left hand told him she was single; her badge had gotten twisted around so he couldn’t see her name. She seemed familiar, like someone he might have known before the fire, or meet once in a different place. Derek thought it was in her chin and jawline. “Can I help you?” The woman’s tone was polite but no-nonsense.

Derek gave her an easy and sheepish smile. “I’m a little lost. I want to visit my uncle and can’t seem to find the right wing.” He paused a little as a thought hit him. “And I just realized I don’t actually know his room number either.”

The woman chuckled quietly and returned the smile. “I bet we can help with that. What’s your uncle’s name?”

Derek hesitated briefly; sure of the reaction he’d get at his name, especially if the woman was one who’d been living in Beacon Hills at the time of the fire. “Peter Hale.”

“Hale, like –“ Her mouth rounded into an “o” before she caught herself. “Is Laura… your sister?”

He blinked, confused by her reaction, and nodded. “Yes, she is.” Derek swallowed hard and looked down as he realized he’d used present tense to refer to his sister.

A large smile broke out across her face. “You must be Derek!” She thrust her hand out at him and Derek took it more out of habit. “Laura told me about you. She usually stops in to chat before going in to see your uncle. Is she here today?”

The question hit in him the gut and he didn’t even realize how hard he was squeezing her hand until she winced and tried to pull away. “No.” His voice was hoarse because this was different than hearing her heart stop because –

He’d been so busy with McCall and Stilinski and the fucking Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department it hadn’t had time to hit him.

_Laura was dead_.

“No,” Derek said, his voice flat. “She was murdered two days ago.” He kept his eyes down, on the high counter of the station, so he wouldn’t have to watch her react to the news.

“Ohhhh.” The quiet exhalation was hard enough to hear. “I didn’t know, Derek. I’m so sorry; Laura was an amazing woman.” The quiet settled between the two of them briefly as Derek continued to stare straight down at the smooth counter. “Do they know who did it?” He shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. “They will.” The woman oozed confidence. “My son’s a deputy and he never gives up on a case.”

That’s when it clicked. The hair. The jawline. Derek’s head snapped up to stare at the woman. “You’re McCall’s mother.”

Her smile was a little wobbly as she nodded. “Yes. You’ve met him? Good, he and Stiles are the best on the force. They’ll find the person who… who… hurt Laura.” She blinked and the smile firmed up. “I never introduced myself, did I? Melissa McCall.”

“How did you know Laura?” He hadn’t meant to ask the question. He just wanted to find out where Peter was and leave. But the way she was standing here, smiling sadly at him, acting like she had _any_ right to know Laura, to feel grief –

“We met about nine years ago when she came to visit your uncle for the first time,” the woman said and suddenly laughed quietly. “Let’s just say you’re not the first lost Hale I’ve helped find their way around the hospital.” Derek hadn’t even known Laura had come back after she’d sent him to Deucalion. “My son had just been bitten and she smelled lycan on me and sought me out after she was done with Peter to ask about it. We mostly kept in touch through email and phone calls but she usually visited two or three times a year. She’s been coming more recently; she said she thought your uncle was getting better.”

Derek swallowed and finally met her eyes. “How is Peter?” He did his best to sound like he was asking for a recent update and not like he didn’t know a damn thing about what his sister had really been doing over the last ten years. It sounded like the _nurse_ saw Laura more than he had until recently.

“He’s not much better,” she said, her voice half flat with the news and half full of sympathy. “He’s still catatonic but he’s started making muscle movements – hand gestures, I think Laura said – over the last couple of times she visited. She said his lycan healing is working but slowly.” The woman shrugged, the motion dislodging a strand of hair. “She didn’t know if it was because of his mental issues or if maybe something that was used during the fire might be retarding his healing.” She tilted her head to the side and reached up to brush the curl back out of her face. “Let me give you my number, Derek. If you need _anything_ , call me.” She reached down and fumbled for a scrap of paper and a pen, writing two numbers down. “That’s my home and my cell. Call anytime. If I’m at work, I might not be able to get back to you immediately but I’ll do my best.”

Derek took the paper numbly and nodded, folding it and putting it in his pocket. It wouldn’t do to waste another ally, especially one Laura had cultivated. He suspected Laura wanted to keep tabs on new werewolves within her territory – especially one that became an alpha. Maybe Derek couldn’t give her the friendship Laura offered but he had other things to offer. “I’ll keep you in mind.” He hesitated briefly. “Ms. Mc –

“Melissa,” she interrupted, her smile sheepish. “Just call me Melissa. Laura told me so much about you, I feel like I know you already.” She reached out and touched his elbow, a gesture she must’ve picked up from Laura. For werewolves, it meant _pay attention, I’m here_.

“Knowing Laura, most of it was probably lies.”

Melissa laughed though Derek hadn’t meant the line to be funny. “Do you want to come to dinner tonight?” When he raised his eyebrows at the unexpected offer, Melissa’s cheeks started to blush. “I don’t mean a date! I just – I thought you might like a home-cooked meal right now.”

This time the smile he gave her was small but real. For all that McCall seemed like an asshole, this woman seemed worth knowing. “No, thank you. I’m… expecting someone in town tonight.”

“The offer’s open any time I’m not working,” she said and then moved out from behind the station. “Now why don’t I show you to your uncle’s room?”

She led him down two hallways to a room. “You were closer than you thought,” Melissa told him and touched his elbow again. “I mean it, call if you need anything.” He watched her lick her lips. “I’m so sorry about Laura.” With that, she turned and made her way back up the hall, leaving Derek in front of the room of his comatose uncle who he hadn’t seen in ten years.

He pushed his way inside.

The room was smaller than he expected, filled with a single standard hospital bed, a small cabinet next to the bed where a lamp and a phone sat. A larger wooden wardrobe was in the corner, one of the doors cracked open. He could see two blue robes hanging up inside the wardrobe. There was an attached bathroom to the left of the room that smelled more of bleach and other cleaning solutions than it did of people. The only light in the room came from the window and there were no chairs. Peter was sitting in a wheelchair directly in front of the window, his back to the door and Derek.

He swallowed and remembered the Uncle Peter who would fight viciously to make sure he was sitting so all entrances and exits were in sight. The Uncle Peter he remembered from being fifteen.

The Uncle Peter Derek hadn’t seen in sixteen years.

“Hello, Uncle Peter,” Derek said quietly and stepped fully into the room and approached his uncle.

Peter had only been twenty-four when the fire had happened and he looked thirty years older now. His blue eyes stared vacantly through the half-drawn blinds and Derek held back a wince at the mass of burn scars on his face and hands. His right hand was even sitting in his lap, palm up, and Derek could see the triskele – his mom’s custom doorknob – blackened into Peter’s skin.

“I’m sorry,” he told Peter. “I should have come sooner, like Laura.” Derek dropped down so he was squatting next to the wheelchair. He dropped his hand on Peter’s knee lightly, listening to the constant and unchanging sound of his uncle’s heart. “It’s been a long sixteen years. I… Laura ordered me to be a wolf for five years after. After everything. Then she sent me to Deucalion.” The sound of the constant beat loosened his shoulders as he talked about things he wouldn’t – _couldn’t_ – with anyone. “I think you’ve probably seen more of Laura than I have.” He choked out a laugh at that and said the words he barely let himself even think.

“I think she wanted me to die but couldn’t kill the last of her family herself. Not when she was trying to rebuild.”

He sighed and leaned forward to rest his forehead half on his own hand and half on Peter’s knee. “She wanted me dead because it’s my fault,” he whispered. “The fire, everything. I was stupid and – it’s my fault because I told Kate Argent everything she needed to know to kill us.” Derek swallowed and wet his lips. “I don’t blame her.”

He shut his eyes and just breathed for a few minutes, soaking in the presence of _family_ , of connection, of being touched, before he said the other thing he didn’t want to face. “Someone killed Laura, Uncle Peter.”

The hospital room was dead silent except for the ragged sounds of his own breathing as he pressed his face into the cotton of Peter’s hospital gown. He almost missed the sensation of a hand on his head and fingers sliding through his hair. Derek gasped, shocked by the gentle touch, and tried to keep from shaking. “ _Thank you_ ,” he told Peter, over and over, until his throat felt hoarse and dry and the hand slid away. When he looked up, Peter was still staring out the window like nothing had happened and that made it ache even more.

He straightened and heard his knee pop at the movement. “I’ll come back tomorrow,” he promised and ran his thumb along the nape of Peter’s neck under the long, curly hair Peter probably would hate if he was conscious. He was trying to say all the things he couldn't aloud --  _I’m with you I’m here I’m at your back_. “I’m going to find the person who killed Laura and kill them. Then I’ll do it right, Peter, and get you out of here.”

\---

Derek left the hospital into the darkening afternoon light. He’d always liked the way the sun went down early in winter. He had an easier time sleeping in the full dark and summers, especially when he’d been a kid, had been impossible with all the amount of day light available. Preferring the dark had been one preference his family _hadn’t_ teased him about.

Still, the pinkening of the sky as the sun went down surprised him. He hadn’t realized he’d spent so much time with Peter. He had just enough time to get something to eat and head back to the motel to meet Deucalion. As if his day hadn’t been exhausting enough.

He made his way to his car and decided to run down time driving around Beacon Hills. It’d give him an idea of what the housing market was like – not to mention the food. He ended up stopping at an Applebee’s and grabbing food for two.

Deucalion hated Applebee’s.

Derek nodded at the front desk and took a seat at one of the tables, pulling out the Styrofoam container with his grilled chicken and pasta. He’d made it halfway through his food when the doors to the motel swung open and Deucalion and Kali walked in.

As usual, Deucalion had his hand gripping Kali’s elbow as she led him, his cane in his other hand. Kali just looked bored, at least until she spotted Derek and then lit up like he was her favorite toy. Sometimes he thought he actually was; she took great pleasure in the kinds of assignments and jobs she gave him. Derek didn’t mind; he was an enforcer. Fighting people was what he was good at and his body was at least something he could contribute. It wasn’t a hardship to go after hunters and their supporters, to take out the pillars of the community that called them _lycans_ and wanted them regulated and tagged and tracked like animals. Derek enjoyed hurting people who wanted to exterminate him.

He and Kali had actually fucked once, when Laura had just sent him to Alphas and he was still figuring things out. Like how to keep Deucalion from killing him, like the rumors said he’d done to his original pack. Or how to act like a human being with other people, interact without freaking them out, after being a dog for five years. He supposed that even the disaster that Kate Argent had been hadn’t stopped him from liking older women and that early he hadn’t really known just how vicious Kali could be.

Deucalion tilted his head to where Derek was sitting. He’d either heard something from Derek, a noise he hadn’t realized he’d made, or smelled the food, or Kali alerted him in some fashion. He dropped his plastic fork and rubbed his fingers against his jeans as he stood up and made his way over to the pair of alphas. He met their eyes once each and then dropped his gaze briefly. Deucalion smiled, like he always did, and Derek held back a sigh, waiting for them to engage. “I’m sorry about your sister,” Deucalion finally said.

Derek shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah.” He looked back over at the food. “Let’s talk about this in my room. It’s private if not very comfortable.”

Deucalion let go of Kali’s arm and nodded toward the front desk. She sighed but moved to get them a room; apparently the pair was going to be here “officially,” at least for a few days. Deucalion moved to take Derek’s arm. “That will do. Have you already started looking for places to live here?”

“Laura bought our property back from the county,” he said, leading Deucalion in toward the elevator. “I guess she was going to rebuild.”

“Derek.” His tone was amused. “You’re going to be the alpha soon. It’s _your_ decision now.”

“No, I don’t want to rebuild. I want to start over.” He jammed his finger on the “up” button as he said it. “I’ll look in a few days. Finding who killed Laura is more important.”

He felt Deucalion’s thumb rub up and down his arm. “And rebuilding the Hale family?”

“Yes. Making us better and stronger,” he agreed.

They remained silent for the rest of the trip to the third floor and to his room. He led Deucalion in and to the chair next to the window. He figured he’d take the office chair at the desk for himself but Deucalion just continued to stand. Derek hesitated before dropping down into the plush chair, sinking into the cushions. “You didn’t have to come,” he offered.

Deucalion ran his hand along Derek’s hair and he shivered at the touch, both familiar and unexpected, especially as Deucalion seemed to trace the along where Peter had touched him earlier. Derek swallowed hard as Deucalion’s fingers squeezed tightly and he tilted Derek’s head up, baring Derek’s throat. “Of course I did,” he murmured, sliding the fingers of his left hand over Derek’s collarbone. “What good alpha wouldn’t come to support a grieving beta?” He felt the scrape of a claw against his Adam’s apple. He’d been touched more today than he could remember in the last few months.

“You know that’s not real, right?” He didn’t try and pull out of Deucalion’s hold, despite the way his stomach tightened, and met the other man’s eyes.

Deucalion smiled and let go, backing off to sit down on the edge of the nearby bed. The bed Laura had slept on, which seemed fitting. “Of course, Derek. You’re too valuable to me for what you’ll become to bother killing you now.”

He rolled his eyes and felt some of the tension he’d been carrying all day – the few days, since Laura – melt out of his body. For all that he wouldn’t claim Deucalion as his alpha and offer him his true loyalty, Derek had known and worked with the other man long enough there was a measure of trust and respect for the work Deucalion was doing to dismantle the restrictions and regulations surrounding werewolves. He hadn’t even realized how much he _did_ look to Deucalion in all those years of Laura’s absence. He pressed his thumb into the arm of the chair, hard, as his stomach sank at the realization that the only problem he would _really_ have with Deucalion as his alpha is the way the other man had killed his old pack for power. “You want me to fully join Alphas,” he said.

“I think we work well together and we have the same goals. After all, I helped your sister hunt and kill Kate Argent. I’m willing to help you destroy the rest of that family and the rest of the hunters out there besides.”

He inhaled, surprised. He’d figured Laura had done it but he hadn’t known Deucalion had helped. It didn’t matter. Kate had died nine years ago and there were bigger problems. “You want me to bite some betas and then kill them.”

“Ideally,” Deucalion agreed and gave Derek a placid smile.

He knew Deucalion couldn’t see it and it wouldn’t give away his nerves at the idea so he let his claws out and pressed them against his thigh. “I don’t know if I could do that to family.”

“You forget I knew your mother, Derek.” Deucalion leaned forward, into Derek’s space. “Even after I killed my pack, Talia was the one werewolf who could stand against me in a fight. She’d done her own fair share of killing within her own pack.” Derek stared down at his claws and the holes he was worrying into his jeans, thinking of his Aunt Cecelia and the challenge she’d issued when he was five. “And you forget I knew Laura,” Deucalion continued. “I knew she kept you _less than human_ , like a _pet_ , for five years. I knew the Hales. They weren’t a family in any way but blood.” He chuckled, the sound rolling through the room. “It’s sweet you still hold these romantic notions about what a family is despite what you’ve been through.” He reached out and pulled Derek’s clawed hand off his thigh. “Do you really think a real family treats you the way the Hales did?”

“We are a real family,” he muttered and let his claws retract back into his hand. Deucalion didn’t let him go.

“How did Kate Argent trick you?”

The answer on the tip of his tongue was _she treated me like a person_ but he wouldn’t say that. Couldn’t say that, not when he recognized Deucalion using the same tactics. “Doesn’t matter; I won’t let it happen again.”

“Derek, you’ve done a fairly good job of never getting close to anyone but if you actually plan on building a new pack – for family, for power, your choice – that will not be lasting. You know better.”

He shrugged and wiggled his hand out of Deucalion’s grip. “I have to try. My family’s old. We’ve carried the traditions for generations. I’m not letting it die with me.”

“As I said: your choice.” His tone told Derek that Deucalion thought the answer he was getting was a mistake. “I’m still willing to accept you formally as a part of Alphas, even if you don’t increase your power.”

“But I can’t be anything but an ally unless I join.” He ran his thumb along the holes within his jeans. “You’d be my alpha. For real.”

“You’ve seen how we interact, Derek. Everyone has a say in the plans and tactics we make.”

“And I’ve seen how you’re the one who creates the long-term strategies.” He pushed his way out of the chair, forcing Deucalion to lean back, and moved away. “I’ll think about it. It doesn’t matter anyway; Laura’s killer is still out there. I have to deal with that first.”

“I assume you have a list of suspects?”

“In the area? There’s only one I know of.” Derek frowned and his tone shortened as he realized just how behind the curve he was on this. “The local alpha has a thing about Hales. _And_ a connection to the Argents.”

“Scott McCall.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You know him?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on him for some time,” Deucalion answered and, inexplicably, toed off his shoes. “You know I have an eye for talent and McCall rose from being a bitten omega to alpha.”

“What about his pack?”

“Mostly humans though I understand he’s taken in two other bitten werewolves whom disagreed with their alphas.”

Derek’s frown increased as he watched Deucalion make himself comfortable on the bed. “Beyond McCall, I don’t really have any ideas,” he admitted quietly.

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.” The tone was calm and reassuring and despite himself Derek relaxed.

\---

He liked the pool. Derek was a good swimmer and it felt _good_ to be good at something. Listening to the sounds of water splashing, people laughing and talking, it felt normal. Some days when he swam he wondered if this was what it was like to be just human. Mostly people left him alone – the Hales were registered lycans and it freaked some of his peers out – but little kids had no problems coming up and talking to him. It reminded him a little of Cora, when she’d been younger, and talking to those kids never failed to make him smile.

Plus exercising at the pool and joining the swim team meant just a few extra hours outside of home. Laura, five years older, had already graduated high school and was in college in New York when Derek started and Cora was too wild to be sent to public school. It wasn’t that she didn’t have the control for middle school it was more that Cora didn’t _care_ to control herself.

Derek was the only one of his werewolf siblings to have gone to public school in Beacon Hills from kindergarten on. Eric would be sent next year, of course, but he was only human. It wasn’t the same.

He’d stayed behind to do some extra laps and kill time so he wouldn’t have to go home until dinner time when he realized he was being watched. Derek had learned early on to listen to the prickling sensation at the back of his neck because it usually meant someone ( _Laura_ ) was getting ready to pounce. He slowed his stroke and when he reached the edge of the pool stopped, giving himself a chance to look around the pool.

He spotted his watcher fairly easily. A pretty blonde woman was sitting on one of the poolside benches. Her curly hair was hanging down her shoulders and she had an easy smile on her face as she watched him. “You’re pretty good at that,” she called out, her voice echoing.

Derek grinned at the praise. “Thanks. It’s mostly practice.”

“Probably some talent too.” He pushed away from the edge and swum across the poll so he was closer to her. She looked vaguely familiar though he couldn’t place why; he figured he’d maybe seen her at a meet or around town and noticed a woman as hot as that.

“A little,” he agreed. “Do you need something?”

“I’m guest lecturing tomorrow and I just wanted to look around the school a bit. See what it’s like,” she explained.

He hesitated before pushing himself out of the pool completely. The woman’s eyes flicked down his body and back to his face in a way that made his face heat up. “If you don’t mind waiting for me to dry off, I could give you a tour?” he offered.

The woman leaned in closer to him, her head tilting back just a little as she studied him again. “That sounds great. I bet you’re an excellent tour guide.” Then she _smiled_.

He woke up with a gasp and shut his eyes as tight as he could, concentrating on breathing. It’d been years since he’d had that dream. It figured Deucalion would bring it all back up.

Deucalion – who was sleeping in the next bed.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair and stood up, making his way to the bathroom. He wanted to shower off all the sweat off, wash away the memories, but he knew the water would probably wake Deucalion up. He slid down so he was sitting on the floor in the dark with his back to the door and just breathed.

At least it hadn’t been the dream about her laughter or her trial or Laura’s words when he’d confessed everything he’d done or the pain of carrying blue eyes now.

He sighed softly and scrubbed his hair, considering options.

He could go check out the crime scene again. It was late enough the place would probably be empty.

He could start scouting more seriously for a place to live.

He could go for a run.

Instead of doing any of the things he thought of, Derek sat in the dark and breathed. It was a few minutes before he realized he’d started to synchronize his breathing with the slow, deep sounds of Deucalion breathing in the room. He shot to his feet and crept out. He was still wearing the same jeans and Henley as yesterday, so he grabbed his jacket and left.

Derek almost didn’t bother with his car, figuring the run would do him good, but decided he’d probably end up arrested again for running faster than a human could if he did.

The trip to the warehouse was quick; the roads in Beacon Hills deserted in the early morning. It was almost eerily quiet in a way that reminded him of shifting in the middle of the night in New York so he could stare out the window at nearly empty streets.

Or maybe it was just the faint lingering smell of Laura that remained even under the smells of all the other people who’d been at the warehouse. He popped the claw on his thumb and quickly split the crime scene tape on the front door.

Derek pushed his way inside and surveyed the warehouse. Laura hadn’t really told him anything about it but now, seeing it, he understood why she thought this might be a good investment. It was a large enough to start training new wolves – either just bitten or omegas integrating into a pack – and out of the way enough any strange noises at night wouldn’t be noticed. Plus it would make Laura look good when she returned, wrestling the territory from an alpha Beacon Hills was familiar with, if she announced she had plans for urban revitalization.

Which meant McCall would be an even bigger suspect.

Still, _if_ what Deucalion said was true… what reason would a true alpha have for killing Laura? It didn’t make sense. _None_ of this made sense. “What the hell were you doing?” he whispered and walked further in toward where he could make out scuff marks on the concrete.

There didn’t seem to be any blood stains and he couldn’t smell much either. Kneeling next to the scuff marks, he traced his fingers along them, feeling the rough concrete. There wasn't enough blood residue here; either Laura had been killed elsewhere and moved or the cops had been a  _lot_  better and faster at crime scene clean-up than Derek was used to. But the timing didn't make sense. He'd already been halfway here when he'd been picked up by the cops, maybe five minutes after he'd heard her heartbeat stop. The call about the dead body had come through the radio while they were transporting him to the station and he'd been charged with Laura's murder almost as soon as he'd got there. 

The timing only made sense if this wasn't just about Laura's murder but also about a set-up of some kind. The killer wanted her body found quickly.

“What are you doing here?”

He turned at the sound of the voice, surprised at someone being able to sneak up on him. The woman behind him was –

He sucked in a breath at the stance and the black uniform and the cold look in the woman’s eyes because _Kate was dead she’s dead she_ –

“I _said_ what are you doing here?” The woman raised a crossbow and pointed it at him. The movement was enough to knock him out of his memories and start noting the differences. She was younger than he was; maybe late twenties – the way Kate had been when she died – and she had brown hair pulled back into a tight bun, not loose blonde hair. This woman was related to Kate.

But she wasn’t _Kate_.

He swallowed and held his hands up in a pacifying gesture. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“You’re trespassing on private property and interfering with the crime scene, lycan.” He tensed at her words; she’d been following him, she knew exactly who he was. “I have the right to put you down should I choose.”

“I’m not threatening you,” he snapped. “And I don’t have any violent offenses on my record to make _that_ true. Besides, you haven’t identified yourself.” As much as Deucalion fought against the system – within and outside of it – he made sure everyone he worked with closely had a thorough grounding in lycan law so they could use the system for a werewolf’s gains if needed. “And if you shoot me, untagged,” he nodded to the uniform camera all Lycan Hunters were required to wear when working which didn’t carry the low-grade electronic hum a streaming camera would have if turned on. “You won’t last much longer than me.”

The cameras and a death penalty for unjust lycan killings had been about the only two good things to come out of the fire. Maybe the only two good things that had come out of an Argent exposing werewolves to the public a hundred years ago and the continued Argent control of werewolves since then.

Kate’s trial hadn’t just been about _Kate_ , after all. It had been about the failures within the system and there’s nothing Americans loved more than criticizing the government.

“What are you doing here?” the woman repeated.

“How about you tell me who you are, _Argent_.” He hissed the name, unable to stop the way it made his heart beat faster with rage. “And then I’ll think about telling you what I’m doing here.”

“I’m Allison Argent, head of the Argent Hunting Family, and California Lycan Hunter Commander,” she spat out and Derek remembered the name. Kate had talked about her little niece Allison, who Kate thought would make a great Lycan Hunter, because even as a nine-year old little girl she already had a strong protective drive. _She reminds me of me_ , Kate had said, and smiled so sweetly Derek and just leaned forward to kiss it like he could taste the flavor of her emotion.

In retrospect, Kate’s words about her niece should probably make him more worried about this confrontation.

“I’m here to make sure the werewolf who killed my sister is found,” he answered honestly. “Since the deputies in charge and even the _California Lycan Hunter Commander_ have conflicts of interest that would see Laura Hale’s killer go unpunished.”

“Don’t test me, Hale,” she snapped, but let her crossbow point down at the ground.

“Are you denying you’re not happy another Hale is dead?”

“She killed my aunt and mother.” Argent’s voice was cold as ice in a way that, oddly, reminded Derek more of his father than Kate. Kate had always been cool and sweet with him but – he’d seen her lose her temper once and she blew explosively. “So you’re right. I’m happy she’s dead. _I also do my job_.”

“Yeah, no surprise an Argent Kate thought had _potential_ enjoys killing werewolves.” He left her accusation alone. Kate had earned her own fate and Derek didn’t know anything about Argent’s mother.

“Shut up and get out of here before I change my mind.”

“What are you doing here?” He had a guess she’d probably been following him but wanted it confirmed. _Especially_ if she was doing it off-the-books.

“None of your business. Get out.”

Derek deliberately ignored her and moved to look around the warehouse. He doubted there was much more he could find, especially if it was a dump site, but it was worth a look. Maybe he could talk Kali into coming back with him later; both making and cleaning up crime scenes were one of her specialties now.

Derek liked it better when she’d mostly stuck to nursing. “If you’re following me without cause I could report you. You might lose your position.” He kept his voice mild, like her very existence didn’t make him want to shred something.

“You’re still a suspect in your sister’s murder, even if you didn’t kill her directly.” Derek chanced a look at her to see her smiling, a little upturn of lips that said _I know something you don’t know_. Kate used to look the same way when he’d ask her about updates in her adventures. “Did you get a human to kill her? Did you think you’d get the alpha status and were surprised when you didn’t? When it meant you weren’t her pack anymore?” He ignored the way the words twisted in his gut. “After all, we all know you’re a killer. You carry the proof on your face.”

He snorted and shook his head. While it was true – he _had_ killed before, his family, on Deucalion’s orders – he’d never admit it to an Argent. Or anyone connected to law enforcement or the lycan system. They’d investigate and even if he wasn’t found guilty of murder that would be a minimum of three years caught in the legal system, all of it spent in a special prison designed solely for lycans while he was awaiting and undergoing trial.

A prison controlled and maintained by Alexander Argent. Derek knew he wouldn’t last long enough to make it to trial.

“I spent time as a security guard in a bank,” he told her, a line he’d used before when questioned. It helped it was absolutely true, if not the _real_ reason he had blue eyes now. “There was a robbery and I shot one of the robbers when they went to hurt a child.” He’d been twenty-four at the time, in his third year on “loan” to Deucalion when the man had sent him to Chicago to work at one of the Bank of America branches there for six months, until the robbery. Derek still didn’t know what Deucalion had wanted, other than a legitimate and documented excuse for Derek to carry the lycan brand of blue eyes.

“Which is a nice excuse to have in your file but I doubt is the truth,” Argent said, smiling a little. She really did resemble Kate.

“All the truth you need.” He began searching the floor, in a grid, circling from where the blood drops were outward. There had to be a trail, a scent, _something_ that could tell him what happened to Laura. There had to be something because he didn’t have any ideas. Derek didn’t even know why she’d asked him to come back to Beacon Hills with her and not a different member of the pack.

His stomach tightened and he licked his lips, wondering why Karen, her second, wasn’t here. Why none of the pack had come after feeling the connection between alpha and beta snap. Maybe that was part of the set-up. He was the last suitable Hale left; the alpha power should have gone to him before it went to an outsider, even one who was pack. Could whoever killed Laura have found a way to redirect the power elsewhere?

He shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way back to the door; there wasn’t going to be any other clues here. He’d have to get information another way. Derek stopped in front of Argent who still blocked the door. “Move.”

“I’m watching you, Hale. All the Lycan Hunters are watching you now,” she informed him. “We’ll find you and put you down if you step out of line.”

Derek just scowled at her in response. “You first, ranulf,” he spat, and wasn’t surprise to see her blank-faced at the lowest insult you could give someone who hated wolves. He paused, remembering Erica’s words – and Stilinski’s as well. “Or maybe that’s not the case.” He relaxed his stance completely and smiled, charmingly, at her. “Maybe it’s the opposite. I’ve heard you dated an alpha. Maybe you like lying down with the animals, huh?” Her inhalation, the way her heart sped up, were probably more satisfying than they should be. “Kate certainly did. She taught me _so_ many tricks. I bet you’re just like her.” Those words were enough to break her cool and before he realized it she’d stuck a knife in his kidney. It wasn’t deep, the blow was propelled by rage and not precision, but it was enough. “Oh, that was a mistake.” He jumped over her and out of Argent’s reach before she could grab the knife back, ignoring the pain and the way the motion twisted the knife in even further.

But he’d gotten what he’d wanted from her.

And now if he was _really_ lucky… Melissa McCall might be at the hospital ready to treat him and document his injury.

He dug his hands into his leg to focus himself as he stumbled back to his car and away from the warehouse. The wound wasn’t deep but leaving the knife in dragged out the pain and Derek could feel the way his body’s healing was slowed both by the foreign object and whatever substance the knife was laced with. Mountain ash or wolfsbane, maybe. That was for the ER to figure out.

The drive wasn’t particularly fun and he was, again, glad for the early morning hours, given the way his eyesight was going in and out, bright white flares covering his vision. His hearing felt diminished too and Derek had trouble staying on the road.

He made it and parked near the ER entrance before walking in. The nurse on duty – sadly not Melissa McCall – immediately moved over to him. “Sir, what –“

“I’m a lycan,” he said, following protocol. Any werewolves admitted to hospitals had to identify themselves. “A Lycan Hunter attacked me for no reason – the knife’s laced with something, I don’t know what, I can’t heal.” He reached out and touched her arm, half to make himself seem scared and desperate for reassurance and half to actually help stay upright. “You have to call the cops, the wound needs to be documented, it was an unprovoked attack.”

The nurse nodded and gestured behind here and – oh, _there_ was Melissa McCall, along with a redheaded nurse and a gurney. Derek gave Melissa a tired smile as she urged him to lie down. “We’ll take care of you, Derek,” she said and reached up to brush his hair off his face.

“Do you have your Alpha’s information?” the redhead asked as they wheeled him to a curtained off area.

“I don’t have an –“ He swallowed and gritted his teeth. “There’s a business card in my wallet. His name’s Deucalion.” The redhead nodded and fished into his jeans for the wallet before disappearing.

“You declared already?” Melissa asked, sounding a little surprised.

“I was told I had to or I’d be declared Omega and killed.” The words came out more sharply than he meant to but Derek figured Melissa might shrug it off as pain.

“Jesus,” she swore and shook her head. “The laws –“ She cut herself off and leaned over. “We’re going to get you fixed up, Derek. Don’t worry about a think,” she promised and reached for a syringe. “I’m going to give you something to ease the pain, okay? It might make you sleepy and if it does, let it. You’ll probably wake up healed.” She smiled at him, easily, and ran another hand through his hair.

“Call the cops.” Derek moaned as whatever Melissa gave him kicked in and the throbbing pain of cutting-and-healing faded.

“Jennifer already went to report it. Just rest.” Melissa’s tone was commanding and motherly and he found himself obeying despite himself.

He shut his eyes and just breathed, in and out, and tried to not think of anything as he listened to the sounds of footsteps and quiet talking as the doctor worked on him. Derek knew he should be planning something for his next step, coming up with an idea of how to track Laura’s killer, but – he needed a break. And if getting himself put in the hospital to at least remove one player from the game didn’t mean he’d earned a break, nothing ever would.

“Dr. Echani, I have the report,” a female voice said and his eyes flew open. It was the same as when he’d seen Allison Argent and mistaken her for Kate because there was _no way_ that voice could belong to who he thought it did. Derek looked over at the newest woman to enter the room; she was wearing purple scrubs and had long, thin brown hair pulled back into a loose bun. Her brown eyes met his gaze easily.

“ _Cora_?” he choked out.

His sister had been ten the last time he’d seen her and this woman looked to be about the right age. Maybe it was grief, maybe he was going crazy – but Cora had died in the fire.

But her features just looked so similar; his mother’s jawline, and the reddish tint to her brown hair that he used to watch shine in the sun when she’d run outside to play, and the stance and movements that reminded Derek of himself. It was all Cora but –

Even with his senses muted by whatever drug was on Argent’s knife the nurse didn’t smell like a werewolf.

The woman strode across the room and handed the doctor a piece of paper. With her left hand, he saw her clump her fingers together and stick her thumb out, creating an “L” sign. It’d been a code his family had used when they wanted to meet up later but either couldn’t or didn’t want to say it aloud.

“Do we have the antidote?”

“Yes,” the woman – _Cora_ , it had to be _Cora_ – said. “As soon as you sign the order for it we can start applying the topical cream.”

The doctor, Echani, looked over and gave Derek a quick smile. “Hear that, Mr. Hale? We’ll have you fixed up in no time. There’ll be some paperwork you’ll need to fill out for your visit and you’ll want to stay here to wait for the officers to take your report.” He turned back to Cora, slipping a pen out of his lab coat and scribbling something on the paper. “That should do it. Make sure to take pictures of the wound before it heals.” He gave Derek a nod before pushing aside the curtain to leave the area.

Leaving Derek alone with Melissa McCall and a woman who was probably his dead sister even if she didn’t smell like werewolf and her visible tag had the name “Cora Malory.”

“You two know each other?” Melissa asked, sounding surprised and unexpectedly pleased.

“You know I worked in a book store while I was at Ann Arbor getting my master’s,” Cora explained. “Derek here was a frequent customer. He came in every week for about six months.” It was a good lie and made Derek even more confused about what was going on. Cora, his sister, would’ve known that his favorite hobby was reading and he did frequent used book stores when he had the chance. He moved too frequently to make a library card worthwhile so used book stores became the best option; buy interesting books frequently and sell them at a book store in the next town when he moved on – usually for store credit.

But it still didn’t explain how Cora was _alive_ and apparently a nurse in Beacon Hills.

“I’m glad,” Melissa patted his shoulder, “that you’ve got another friendly face here.”

He nodded numbly. “About how long will the antidote take?”

“It’s a specific wolfsbane blend,” Cora explained. “Northern Blue Monkshood. All we need is a small sample applied to the wound and your healing should start immediately.”

He saw Melissa frown at the name of the aconite plant. “You were attacked by a Lycan Hunter?”

 Derek shut his eyes and sighed. “Yeah. She followed me this morning and confronted me when I went to take a look at the place Laura was killed. She didn’t have her camera on.”

Melissa made a little tsking noise in the back of her throat. “I’ll go check on when we expect the police to be here. We can’t actually apply the antidote until they get pictures of the wound.”

“Thanks,” Derek told her and just kept his eyes shut as he listened to the sounds of her sneakers squeaking quietly on the linoleum.

“I didn’t think you’d ever come back to Beacon Hills, Derek,” Cora said.

He opened his eyes and stared at his baby sister, too tired to know what he should be feeling after the last few days. “I never thought I’d see you again because you were _buried_ in Beacon Hills, Cora.”

“I got away and I hid, like we were taught to do,” she whispered. The Hales considered sixteen coming of age; any family member would be expected to fight. At fifteen and ten, both Derek and Cora had been too young. “I hid and when I came out everyone was gone.”

He flinched at her words, trying not to picture a ten-year old coming back to the house and – and – smelling the burnt flesh and breathing in the ashes of their home and their family and feeling completely alone. It’d been bad enough, paralyzing enough, at fifteen with Laura there to act as an alpha, especially after he’d caught the smell of Kate’s favorite perfume. She’d been wearing it the night before when he’d snuck out of the house to meet her and they’d _made love_ , slow and tender as she held his wrists down against the hotel bed and rode him, placing faint kisses along his neck. “Did –“ His voice cracked and he couldn’t even be embarrassed about it. _His baby sister_. “Did Laura know?”

“When the two of you dumped Uncle Peter here and ran to New York?” Derek tried to push himself up so he was sitting on the gurney but Cora’s hands on his shoulders, larger, rougher, _and stronger_ than the little girl he remembered, held him down. “Stop that!” she snapped and he stopped struggling, turning his head so he couldn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t know if Laura ever knew,” Cora explained, her fingers squeezing tight before letting go. “Not then. I didn’t know what happened or who we could trust so I just shifted and ran and ran and ran until I ended up two states away. I ended up in a pack’s territory and they took me in.” She tilted her head to the door and brushed her fingertips against his wrist. “Someone’s coming. You’ll be here for a while so we’ll talk after my shift.”

“Wait!” He flipped his wrist so he could grab Cora’s hand. “Do you – Have you –“ He swallowed. “Laura was murdered, Cora.” Her grip on his fingers tightened painfully but her face stayed blank.

“I’ll find you after my shift.” She easily broke his hold and stepped away from the gurney. Derek shut his eyes, slung his right arm over his eyes, and held in his reaction. _Cora_.

A few minutes, or maybe a few hours, the curtain twitched. Derek just stayed the way he was, missing the ability to tell and categorize people by smell, and waited for the intruders to identify themselves.

“You’re lucky the laws have changed in the last thirty years,” Stiles’s Stilinski’s voice said. Derek groaned internally; this was the last thing he wanted right now. “Because thirty years ago, we could have locked you up just for being in trouble twice in one week.”

Derek opened his eyes and gave an incredulous stare at the other man. “Believe me, I know the change. My mother was one of the lawyers who challenged that law. It’s part of why Kate _Argent_ killed them.” Talia Hale, for all her fierceness as a werewolf, had tried to find a middle path between total assimilation into the hunter lycan regime and anarchy. She didn’t want to lie down and take what the Argents and other hunters in positions of power were doing to werewolves; she wanted to change the laws to ensure werewolves were fully integrated citizens protected the same as humans. Deucalion had worked with her, some, before the fire. _She had vision and so did I_ , he’d said once to Derek when he’d found Derek looking at a Facebook photo gallery with pictures of his family.

Stilinski snorted and pushed the curtain aside completely to reveal McCall, a camera in his hands. “We’re here to document your wounds and take your statement,” McCall said woodenly.

“You two don’t have a very good track record with the term ‘conflict of interest,’” he muttered but Derek was pretty sure that, since he was a lycan, his only other option would be Chris Argent himself. And that would likely be worse.

“You’ll need to sit up so Lycan Officer McCall can take pictures,” Stilinski said. “And you’d better either control your eye flare or shut your eyes so the pictures come out properly.”

He grunted and pushed himself up onto his elbows and all the way up, the pain flowing back into him at the moment even despite the painkillers. He nodded to where the doctor had dropped the knife into a tray. “You’ll have to take pictures of that too.”

“Don’t tell me how to do my job,” McCall snapped and lifted the camera, surprising Derek with the flash as he took a picture. He reached up and rubbed his eyes before scowling.

“Could you hurry it up,” Derek snapped. “I’m being poisoned here while you two screw around.”

McCall rolled his eyes but focused on the pictures. “So tell us what happened,” Stilinski ordered. He sighed and explained briefly about meeting Argent, only mentioning he was taunting her but not the specifics of what he was saying. “So you deliberately provoked a Lycan Hunter into stabbing you,” he summed up, rolling his eyes. “Pack it up, Scott, let’s go home. This asshole got what he deserved.”

“If you leave without following the law, I’ll make sure you’re both fired,” he snapped. “A physical attack by a Lycan Hunter against a werewolf that is not showing signs of aggression or shifting is _illegal_ , remember? And since I know that particular Lycan Hunter was _off the books_ during our chat and as a _werewolf_ McCall can hear I’m not lying, _do your fucking job_.” There was probably little more of a growl in that than Derek intended but he was in pain and done with these idiots.

The curtain swished completely open and all three of them looked over to see Melissa McCall with a frown on her face. Deucalion was standing next to her, his hand on her arm. She must’ve guided him over to Derek. “It sounds like I’ve arrived at just the right time,” he said, his voice smooth.

“Scott Nathaniel McCall!” Melissa crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her son. “I taught you better than to rile up the patients!”

Derek flinched at her stance and the protective energy coming off of her. No wonder Laura had liked her and tried to cultivate her as an ally. It was fairly obvious that if her son really was someone who rose, it was because of this woman’s influence.

The sheer force of her personality made him ache for the cut strings of his pack, his family, more than normal.

McCall nodded at his mother, giving Deucalion a strange look, before turning to Derek. “I apologize, Mr. Hale. That was rude of my partner.” Derek hid his amusement at the annoyed look Stilinski sent McCall before he smiled sheepishly at Melissa.

“I’m afraid you’ll both have to leave,” Stilinski added. “This is police business.”

“Are you done with the photographs yet, Scott?” Melissa asked, ignoring Stilinski. “The wolfsbane is slowly spreading through Derek’s system; we need to apply the topical antidote before it reaches his heart.” McCall frowned and shot a few more pictures of Derek’s side before putting the camera inside the evidence bag he was carrying and Melissa gently pushed him aside, reaching into the pockets on her scrubs to pull out a small jar – probably the antidote she mentioned – and gloves. “This is going to hurt,” she told him, her tone soft as she pulled on the gloves.

Deucalion stepped forward before Derek could say anything. “That is what I am here for,” he said smoothly. McCall and Stilinski both looked at him and Derek watched McCall visibly sniff the air and rolled his eyes. “And as Derek’s alpha,” Deucalion continued, “It’s my right to be here to help him.” He felt his way around the bed, opposite to Melissa, and dropped his hand on Derek’s shoulder, his fingertips touching the base of Derek’s neck.

Derek ignored the way Stilinski and McCall both stiffened at Deucalion’s announcement, the way Melissa smiled easily at both him and Deucalion as she moved forward to apply the ointment, and just focused on the way Deucalion’s fingertips grounded him in the present and promised to take away the pain that was coming. “This is going to burn,” Melissa warned him, spreading the ointment on a swab. “But the antidote should take effect quickly and you’ll heal right up. Most lycans are tired afterward though so you should rest for the next twenty-four hours,” she told him. When Derek nodded at her, Melissa wiped the swab over his wound and he hissed around the three seconds of pain before Deucalion began taking it from him.

“Do you have a lot of wolves that need aconite treatment, Nurse McCall?” Deucalion asked.

She watched Derek’s flesh slowly knit back together as the steam lifted off the injury, burning the wolfsbane out of him. He flopped back down onto the gurney and sighed, shutting his eyes as he adjusted to the return of normal sensory input. “Not much but since there’s a changing center about an hour away and the California Lycan Hunters are based out of Beacon Hills we do get visits from some of the more rabid anti-lycan groups.” She made a displeased sound and Derek suspected Melissa was looking at her son. “Vanguard Humanity sets up protests regularly.”

“Despite the unfortunately circumstances, I’m glad for Derek’s sake you have experience with aconite,” Deucalion said. “I’m pleased he is in good hands with you, Nurse McCall.” Melissa’s smile was pleased and shy all at once at the praise and Derek secretly enjoyed the way McCall bristled as Deucalion complimented his mother.

“Why don’t both of you come to my place tonight for dinner?” she offered.

McCall stepped forward. “You can’t!” he snapped at his mother and she silenced him with just a look and he sighed. “Mr. Hale is a suspect in his sister’s murder and his new alpha is _Deucalion_.”

The slightly scared look that crossed her face hurt more than he was expecting; he was a werewolf, he should be used to people being afraid of him by now and, despite her kindness to him, Derek had only just met Melissa McCall. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, keeping his tone flat. “I already have dinner plans. Thank you for the offer.”

She straightened her shoulders and nodded, giving him a hesitant smile. “I meant what I said, earlier. Call me anytime.”

Derek didn’t know what to do or say to that so he looked down and nodded. “Thanks. For treating me.”

“Your sister was a good friend,” she said, repeating her words from earlier. In the corner of his eye, he saw McCall frown and stare at his mother in confusion. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder briefly before gently pushing him back so he was lying on the gurney. “Stay there and I’ll be back to check on you in an hour. If everything seems normal, we’ll discharge you then.”

“Thank you very much for your assistance,” Deucalion said, smiling. “You’re a credit to your profession.” Melissa blushed and laughed the compliment off before ducking away, pulling the curtain behind her. “Now,” he said, tilting his head toward Stilinski and McCall. “Do you have more questions for Derek?”

McCall and Stilinski exchanged a long look. “Why were you at the crime scene in the first place?” McCall asked.

“Because she was my _sister_ and it’s obvious neither of you care!” Derek gritted out, angry they were having this discussion again. “She deserves justice.”

“Or vengeance?” McCall asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Sometimes those are the same things,” Derek told him quietly.

McCall shook his head at that but Stilinski gave a small nod, like he agreed. “Look, we’re still investigating your sister’s murder. Neither one of us is slacking off on the job. Investigations take time and the more involved you get the harder it will be for us to find her killer,” McCall said, his voice even.

Derek snorted at the feeble attempt at pacification. “Oh, so you think you’re not looking at her killer anymore?”

“I told you that already,” McCall said. “You’re cleared of her murder.”

“Just not of being an _accessory_ to murder,” Stilinski informed him and there was more glee in his voice than Derek thought warranted by the situation.

“I had nothing to do with it,” he muttered grumpily before looking at Deucalion. “They’ve taken my statement; will you make sure they actually question and arrest Argent?” He knew that this would likely merit Argent a slap on the wrist but the charge would go on her record and bring media attention to _another_ Argent Lycan Hunter not playing by the rules. That was good enough for now.

“It would be my pleasure,” Deucalion said. “I have been meaning to talk to Alpha McCall for some time.” His smile was charming. Derek was used to seeing it right before Deucalion viciously attacked someone.

“And what are you planning on doing in the meantime?” Stilinski asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I just said I have dinner plans. That’s what I’m doing.”

“Check in with Kali, Derek,” Deucalion told him, reaching out and grabbing McCall’s bicep easily. McCall’s jaw tightened by he didn’t shrug the other man off. “She has some information for you about your next posting.”

He nodded and vaguely considered blowing off the order. It’d disrupt his plans for the day, the half of it that was left anyway, but he knew better than to push his luck. He was on thin enough ice right now without Deucalion just tossing him out as more trouble than Derek was worth. And given the way the other man was looking at McCall, that could be a possibility. Deucalion wanted power desperately – but not really to change the anti-lycan status quo. Derek had no doubt Deucalion didn’t mind if things changed for the better for werewolves but in the end, he was looking after himself first. This meant if he saw someone with power he wanted, he’d either convince that person to his side or break them.

Very few people ever got away with turning him down. Laura had only managed because she’d sent Derek in her place and – his mom had been one of the people Deucalion had respected. She’d been the one who’d started him in the movement, years ago.

“Give Argent my regards,” he said as the three of them walked away.

Derek settled on the gurney and shut his eyes, trying to prioritize the things he needed to do. Things like look for a place to live to establish a residence, find his sister’s killer, find out how his _other_ sister survive, carry out whatever task Deucalion and Kali had planned for him.

Maybe at some point sleep.

He reached up to scrub his face. He didn’t have the time to wait an hour; besides, that was one of the perks of being a werewolf – healing.

Derek rolled off the gurney and fingered the bloody hole in his shirt. He could change when he got back to the hotel and check in with Kali after.

He made his way, a little slower than normal, to the nurse’s station. “There’s paperwork I have to fill out?”

The nurse there, the redhead Melissa had called Jennifer, looked up at him and frowned. “You shouldn’t leave yet, Mr. Hale.”

“I know,” he shrugged. “But I’m going to anyway.” She sighed and held up a hand for him to wait. “It’ll take a few minutes to pull the forms together and print them.”

“That’s fine.” He hesitated and then decided to take the chance. This would be easier than maybe missing her since Cora had never actually told him when her shift was over. “Hey, do you have a small piece of paper and a pen I could borrow?” Jennifer looked up from the computer she was typing on, sighed briefly, and opened a drawer to pull out a pad with the Beacon Hills Memorial logo on it. She pushed it across to him and nodded to the cup of pens nearby. Derek helped himself and jotted down his phone number. He pressed the pen against the paper harder before writing, “please call” underneath.

He waited at the station, leaning against the desk slightly. Melissa had been right that he’d feel tired after being hit with wolfsbane.

Too bad it’d been years since it felt like Derek had time to rest.

When Jennifer came back, a clipboard in her and, Derek held onto his pen and offered her the slip of paper. “Would you give this to Cora Malory?”

Jennifer took it and opened the slip of paper, giving Derek an unimpressed look. “Why should I help you?”

“Because –“ He wanted to claim her, say _she’s my sister_ , but couldn’t. “We knew each other a long time ago. I want to reconnect and I think she does too.” He tried a small, tired smile on the nurse but her expression didn’t waiver. “Please?”

“Fine,” Jennifer shoved the slip of paper into the pocket of her scrubs. “I’ll give it to her.” She sniffed. “Cora can do better,” she muttered, turning back to work and Derek held back a laugh at his own expense and started on the insurance and billing paperwork.

The paperwork didn’t take long, especially as he didn’t _have_ insurance – hard to get and keep insurance if you didn’t keep a job longer than six months, when some of those jobs weren’t under your own name, and you were a werewolf whom presumably wouldn’t need it – and he handed the papers back to Jennifer. “Thanks for your help,” he told her quietly. That got a small smile and a nod in acknowledgement. “Is there anything else?”

“No. You can go.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “And hopefully not come back.” He laughed softly again and nodded.

“Only to see Melissa or Cora,” Derek said and made his way slowly out of the hospital and to his car. He eased his way into the driver’s seat, his entire body aching.

Time to go talk to Kali.

He drove to the hotel and made his way to his room before dropping to slouch onto the bed. He fished his cell out of his pocket and pulled up Kali’s number. He could call her and then call Laura’s pack to find out what they knew and why no one had come to Beacon Hills. And then maybe just rest for a few hours, get some food, and move onto finding a house until Cora contacted him.

There wasn’t anything else he could do for Laura right now.

“Derek,” Kali’s voice was smooth when she picked up. “I suppose this means you survived.”

“What does Deucalion want me to do?”

“I think I liked you better when you weren’t all business,” she said, sighing.

“I wasn’t that good in bed.” Derek kept his voice bland. “Besides, you liked Ennis better. What did you tell me? He fucked like a train?”

Kali laughed. “He does. Too bad I could never convince you to try him, Derek. You know I don’t mind sharing and Ennis would be more than willing to give you the fucking you deserve if I asked him.”

Derek rolled his eyes and let himself collapse down onto the bed. “If I wanted to be fucked, I can find someone to do it on my own. What does Deucalion want me to do?”

“There’s a woman we want you to find: Julia Baccari.”

“You know that’s not really… the kind of thing I’m good at?” he admitted slowly. It was both true and hard to say; after all, finding someone was exactly what he’d have to do avenge Laura and take the Hale alpha power back where it belonged.

“Deucalion has faith you can find her,” Kali told him smoothly. “She wants to be found.”

“Just find her?”

“Find her and then call _me_.” Derek frowned at Kali’s emphasis on herself.

“Not Deucalion.”

“You can call him too but you call _me_ first.” The words rung with the power of an alpha and Derek dug his nails into his thigh to resist the urge to go out to sniff the woman out.

Instead, he asked, “What information can you give me?”

“She wants to be found,” Kali repeated. “She’s been gearing up for a war with us for years.” He let his claws retract and the wounds heal as he contemplated what she might not be saying. Gearing up for war against Alphas? Or against Deucalion and Kali in particular? “She’s probably not wearing the same face she used to.” So not a werewolf if plastic surgery was an option. “And she’s probably only gotten more powerful since the last time I saw her.” So, a personal grudge.

“I won’t be able to do anything until Laura’s taken care of.” And probably not even until much after then. He would need time to settle with the power, learn to use it, create his own pack.

“We’re aware,” Kali told him, her voice darkening. “When this is over, Julia is what we want you to focus on.”

“If I stay part of Alphas,” he warned and Derek knew he was going to have this talk with Deucalion again, directly, rather than both of them hinting around the subject.

“You’ll stay, Derek. We’re your family now,” Kali told him smugly and hung up. And if he hadn’t seen Cora, Kali might have been right.

He scrolled through his contacts to Karen, Laura’s Second, and called her next, reaching out to rub the bridge of his nose. When she picked up he swallowed at the sound of her voice. “Hello?”

“Karen? It’s me, Derek.” He paused as he realized he'd only talked to Karen about three times and she might not remember him. Laura’s brother.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. “Laura’s not here if you’re trying to reach her.”

Derek rubbed his forehead. How had they _not_ felt her death? What was going on? “I know that. I was here with her when she was murdered. I just want to know why _you_ aren’t here helping me find her killer.” He forced the words out harshly, letting his anger and frustration through.

“…you didn’t know.” Karen sighed. “Derek, she repudiated all of us a month ago. I’m the alpha of my own pack now.”

Derek’s breath caught. Laura had _repudiated_ her pack? Disavowed them and their connection? Declared herself not their alpha? “What?” He asked hoarsely.

“I can’t help you, Derek. Don’t call me again. You’re not welcome in my pack, not after what Laura did to us. No Hales will ever be allowed in my pack; no Hales will ever have an alliance with my pack. We go our separate ways.”

He let his phone go dark and stared at the ceiling.

\---

“We’re going back, Derek,” were the first words he heard when he picked up. It was unusual for Laura to call him, so he’d picked up even in the middle of the job Deucalion had him on. He wasn’t even supposed to have his cell phone with him on the shop floor.

“Laura?” he asked, confused both by the call and her words.

“We’re going back to Beacon Hills, Derek.”

The flat, unemotional words left him breathless, half a dozen words caught in his throat at her announcement. “I – _Laura_.”

“Come to my place in San Francisco tomorrow and we’ll drive to Beacon Hills together.”

“I don’t want to go back,” he told her flatly. “And I’m in the middle of work.”

“I’m your _alpha_.” The growl in her voice was easily distinguished over the phone. She was making this an order.

“Fine. I’m in Arizona,” he said softly, sighing. “I’ll leave as soon as I can pack some clothes and get some food.”

“Hurry up,” she snapped. “I want you here now.”

“Why are we going back?”

“Because it’s time,” she told him and hung up. He’d stared at his phone and thought about it, _really_ thought about just saying no.

But Laura just wasn’t his alpha, she was his sister too. She, even if she hated him and Derek had no doubt that some part of her did, was all he had left now. “Joe!” he shouted down the line at his supervisor, pushing back from the machine he was running. “I quit!”

He’d made the twelve-hour drive in ten and showed up at Laura’s doorstep in the middle of the night. There wasn't really anything strange about her being alone. Her pack were all bitten wolves; they’d had lives and families of their own but Derek would've wanted his pack close if he was an alpha. She’d studied him, expression hard and blonde hair messy, before opening the door. “We leave in the morning,” she’d said and headed to her bedroom. Derek had collapsed on the couch, dropping his go-bag by the door. He hadn’t bothered to change out of the clothes he’d been wearing and set the alarm on his phone to vibrate.

Laura might accept a goodwill gesture if he got up early enough to fix her breakfast before they left. She always did like his cooking and maybe pancakes, bacon, and omelets would convince Laura to explain what the hell was going on and why she was dragging him back to Beacon Hills.

Plus he’d have to call Deucalion in the morning to give him Derek’s observations about the use of werewolf labor in the factory and let him know Derek had bailed on this assignment.

Falling asleep was easy, after spending years living out of long-term stay hotel rooms. Laura’s couch was firm and comfortable and it smelled like her and, more faintly, members of her pack. It’d been a long time since he’d been able to smell _packfamily_ that way.

Waking up was easy too, though Derek didn’t really want to do it. Sleeping on Laura’s couch was the best sleep he’d gotten in at least eight months. He was lucky too because when the vibrations woke him up, he could easily hear Laura’s quiet snores. It took him back to New York, to sleeping on the couch in fullshift, and satisfying himself that he still had family left despite his stupidity by the sounds of Laura’s gentle snores. Or earlier, in happier times, when Laura’s snores mingled with the whistling of Cora’s breaths and Eric’s sleep-babble and Uncle Peter’s reading and the sounds of his mom and dad moving around the house as they made sure everything was locked up and safe.

Laura’s fridge was fairly well stocked with food so he helped himself, pulling out everything he’d need for a decent breakfast to feed two wolves. He was maybe a little more extravagant than necessary but it wasn’t often Derek got a chance to cook for someone else anymore.

It wasn’t often Derek had a chance to have a meal with someone else anymore.

“Coffee,” Laura demanded harshly from behind him.

“There’s a cup on the table.”

“Better not be cold,” she muttered and dropped into the ornately decorated chair. Derek could feel her eyes on his back as she waited for him to serve her a plate of food.  

He dished the food out and dropped the plate in front of her before gathering his own and sitting down at the table. Laura growled softly at the move but didn’t force him up or away. “Why are we going back?”

“Shut up,” she snapped, focusing solely on her pancakes. He stopped himself from flinching at the tone in her voice and just looked down at his own plate.

“I can help better if you explain.”

“I _said_ shut up,” Laura repeated and when he glanced up, she was staring at him with red eyes. “There’s property I want to buy there,” Laura finally told him and he was vaguely surprised to get that much. “You have experience with inspections.”

His stomach clenched at that. Part of Derek was worried because it meant Laura was keeping fairly close tabs on his work with Deucalion and he wasn’t sure exactly that meant for him. The other part of him was happy Laura was keeping tabs. She cared what happened to him.

“I do,” he agreed and relaxed into the chair, poking at his eggs. “Mostly with houses.”

“Close enough,” she muttered.

“How long are we going to stay?”

“You’ll be there as long as I need you to look at places.” She stabbed the fork against the plate hard enough to sound out a scratching noise and glared at him. “When you’re done you can go back to Deucalion.”

“I – Laura.” Derek held his breath and waited for Laura to look up at him, her red alpha eyes faded back to green. “I want to stay with the pack for a while. I miss having family.”

“Then you shouldn’t have killed them, Derek.” He flinched and stood up, appetite gone at the even and bland tone in Laura’s words. He snatched the plate up off the table and dumped his uneaten food into the garbage.

“I’ll leave now.”

“Fine. I’ll meet you at the hotel. Get a room for us. I want to keep an eye on you,” she ordered and Derek’s shoulders tightened as he put his back to her to walk away.

Derek did as he was told and traveled to Beacon Hills. He’d wondered why Laura had said “the hotel” until he drove back into town for the first time in ten years. As he paid and checked into the double, he realized it meant Laura had come back to Beacon Hills before. That this might not actually be her first trip to buy property. But given her mood when he’d left her place, Derek was fairly sure asking about it would be pushing his luck. He even made sure to have some food handy for when Laura showed up.

When she did, an hour later, she glared at him and headed for the food. “Be quiet and I won’t force you to shift except when I need you.”

He swallowed and nodded his acknowledgement. Derek wasn’t entirely sure he _could_ shift fully anymore, not after ten years of only using the beta shift. And even then, the number of times he’d had to beta shift could be counted on one hand.

Derek resolved to stay the fuck out of Laura’s way, do what he was told, and take what pieces of information she would give him.

\---

NOW

Derek let himself lay in the bed, taking in the faintest whiff of Laura’s scent left, for another half hour before his phone beeped with a text notification. _8pm at Pagliai’s – Cora_

The relief that Cora had taken his number and was willing to talk, albeit in a public restaurant where anyone could listen in, swept through him.

That she wanted to meet at Pagliai’s was also a good sign. Derek remembered the restaurant for its deep dish pizza mostly but he knew that was the place his mother had taken guests of the pack for negotiations or meetings. His family ordered the pizza for delivery frequently but going to the restaurant itself was special – it was neutral space that didn’t involve hanging around abandoned buildings like the old distillery.

Which reminded him – he should probably go see Deaton in the next few days. Deucalion had introduced him to the man shortly after Laura had sent him to Alphas to work. Maybe Deaton, for all his disinterest in the survivors of the Hale pack after the fire, might be willing to help find Laura’s killer out of loyalty to Talia Hale, if nothing else. It was worth a shot. Besides, if Deaton still lived in Beacon Hills, the very least he could do is give Derek the lay of the land. He’d need to know if he took over as alpha.

He spent his afternoon with a real estate agent the clerk at the hotel recommended until he found a place he liked. The loft was in the mostly abandoned section of town, spacious, and in an otherwise empty building. Derek thought about seeing if he had the money to buy out the entire building – the agent, Matt, seemed pretty desperate to unload the loft itself and Derek knew he could get a decent price. He seemed better not to risk it yet until he was sure he could access the Hale accounts Laura controlled. The money he’d earned from working for Deucalion, plus the jobs Deucalion set him up with, covered the loft but would leave him pretty cash strapped after. Still, the place was enough to get him a legal residence in Beacon Hills. He just needed to turn the basic utilities on and buy a bookshelf and a bed. Maybe a desk. That was all Derek needed.

He walked out of Matt’s office, the pinched look on the agent’s face eased a little after the deal, with just enough time to hit a furniture store for a bed and the local power and water offices before his meeting with Cora. He arranged for the delivery of furniture and the utilities to be turned on the next Monday and realized _he had a real home_.

Derek had a place to live, a _stable_ place to live, that was _his_ , for the first time since he was fifteen. The circumstances – Laura’s death – weren’t the best but maybe something good was coming out of the whole mess. He had a real home again and was reconnecting with his family. Cora could be his beta and Peter – well, Peter deserved better than rotting in a hospital.

Derek didn’t have to be alone anymore.

The realization shocked him to his core, leaving him gasping in his car, fingers white on his steering wheel as he sat in the parking lot of Pagliai’s.

A hand slamming against his window startled him out of his daze and he turned to glare at – Stilinski. “What do you want?” He didn’t bother to roll the window down.

“Nothing, I just noticed you loitering here in the parking lot and thought it was time you moved on,” Stilinski told him, returning the glare.

“I’m not doing anything wrong and I’m just waiting to meet a friend for dinner. This is harassment.” He realized Stilinski wasn’t wearing his deputy uniform, just jeans, a plain white shirt and a red plaid button-up layered over it. “Especially since it looks like you’re off-duty.”

“A _real_ officer of the law is never off-duty,” Stilinski said and the ring of conviction and in his voice and the ease he said the words told Derek it was something he really believed and said often. “Besides, it didn’t look like you were waiting for anything, Derek, it looked like you were having a panic attack.”

“Not that I think you care but I’m fine,” he snapped and dug his phone out of his pants. It was already 8:05 and now he was late. He slammed open the door, Stilinski dodging out of the way. “Now leave me alone until you’re here to tell me you’ve figured out who Laura’s killer is.” He left Stilinski and his startled expression behind as he stormed toward Pagliai’s entrance, hoping Cora hadn’t given up on him and left.

Derek ignored the server and scanned the restaurant, tension flowing out of him when he realized that Cora was sitting in a booth in the corner of the restaurant, half-hidden from view of the door and most of the rest of the place. They could have their conversations in private. He stepped past the server and headed for her table, slipping into the booth across from her. “Sorry I’m late, I got held up.”

Cora nodded at him, reaching up brush her brown hair behind her ears. “Derek.”

He fiddled with the napkin-wrapped silverware at the table briefly, unsure what to say. “You still like Arthur, huh?” he found himself blurting out.

She blinked and smiled a little. “Sword in the Stone is still my favorite movie,” Cora confessed and Derek’s heart clenched as he remembered the little shit he’d been. Cora had been young enough to believe in goodness and magic that Disney movies presented and when she’d been nine and he was a fourteen year old juvenile _shit_ , he’d read her Le Morte D’Arthur as bed time stories. “I still think T.H. White tells it better than Malory.”

“You took Malory’s name instead.”

“Because _you_ read me Malory, not White,” she said and the smile on her face dimmed. Derek stared down at the table. “Where have you been, Derek?”

“I should be asking _you_ that. You were dead, Cora. Don’t you get that? _You’ve got a tombstone_ ,” he snapped, hissing to keep his voice down.

“I hid for a week, until the sounds of people in the Preserve went away,” she told him coldly. “And when I came out – you were gone, Laura was gone, Peter had been dumped in the hospital, and the rest of our family was _dead_. You don’t get to be angry with me about this.”

The hard part was she was right. “I – I know. I just –“ He took a breath to collect himself. “I bought a loft.”

Cora blinked. “So?”

“I bought a loft here. Today, before coming to meet you.”

He watched her jaw tighten and felt his stomach drop. “So you want to stay.”

“I filed the paperwork to kill the werewolf who killed Laura. That’ll make me the Hale alpha, Cora.” He kept his voice quiet but firm. This was the best decision he’d made in a while. The first decision he’d made in a while, really. “That was all before I knew you were alive and _here_. I’m staying.”

Cora’s expression was flat and blank but Derek could feel the way she was assessing him, both as he watched her and through the frayed and – so he thought – invisible bond that _pack_ brought. They weren’t pack any longer and hadn’t been since Laura had told him Cora was dead, they were all dead, but he felt the _potential_ of that bond to be there. Cora could be his beta and he’d take care of her the way no one else did, the way Laura hadn’t… the way Derek had been able to when they were children. He’d make sure her life was good, that no Lycan-Hunters, no _Argents_ , nothing touched her that she didn’t want. He could protect her and, in return, he’d had a _family_ a _home._ It could be so good; Derek felt it in his bones, in his blood. They’d be good again together.

“I see,” Cora told him and turned her head to the side as a waiter approached. He was young, maybe college age, and Derek watched him check out his sister and glared. “Hi, I’m Tony and I’ll be your server. Have you had a chance to decide what you’d like?”

“Deep dish, sausage, mushroom, black olives,” Cora said and raised her eyebrows at Derek.

“Get a large,” he added. “We’ll share.” He paused, not sure how Cora would take it and added, “Like we used to.”

She nodded and ordered waters for both of them, waiting for Tony to leave. “Did you ever think I might not want you to come back?”

Derek sucked in a breath and looked her straight in the eyes. “No, because I bet you miss having a family as much as I do.”

Cora licked her lips and nodded, her shoulders tight against the plastic backing in the booth. “It’s why I came back here. Why I went into nursing,” she confessed.

“Because of Peter.”

“Someone had to take care of him like a real family would.” Her words were angry and Derek flinched.

“I’m sorry I’m a disappointment.” He wanted to be sarcastic to her, hide how her words made him ache, but instead he just sounded tired and lonely. He sounded honest. “I could’ve come back after –“ He hesitated and resisted the urge to glare at Tony, returning to drop off glasses of water. He wrapped his fingers around his, feeling the condensation wet his palm. “Laura kept me… close, after the fire. I wouldn’t have been able to come back until after Kate Argent’s trial. I should’ve then.”

“She was just looking out for you, like an alpha should.” There was an upswing in Cora’s tone, making the statement more of a question he wasn’t sure how to answer. Laura was dead and couldn’t defend herself from Derek’s accusations, if he even wanted to make them. Those five years, and the ten after them, held a lot of shame. He’d done something wrong, he’d killed his family, he’d killed innocent people, and he’d spent fifteen years paying for it. Laura had made sure of that.

“No, she wasn’t.” He picked up the straw next to the glass and unwrapped it, dropping it into the water and then playing with the paper wrapper. “She kept me shifted for five years and then sent me away from her pack, Cora.” He folded the wrapped over and over until it was as small as he could get it so he wouldn’t have to see Cora’s face when he told her that. Even looking away didn’t help Derek miss Cora’s soft inhale.

“Why? She wouldn’t do that without a reason.” He realized his hands were shaking and he didn’t want to do this, _say it_ , in the middle of a fucking family restaurant with his baby sister. So he looked up and flashed his eyes at her. His blue eyes. Cora stared at him for a moment, assessing, before rolling her eyes. “That doesn’t answer my question, Derek.”

He looked around the restaurant; everyone looked happy, like they were enjoying themselves, too engrossed in their own conversations and lives to pay attention to the werewolves in the corner. “They turned blue after the fire. It was my fault.”

Cora rolled her eyes again. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t ring the place with mountain ash, throw wolfsbane smoke bombs inside, and then follow it up with a burning torch.”

“No, but – Kate Argent and I were. She.” He tried to remember how he’d said it to Laura, how he’d managed the courage to get the words past the clog of guilt and grief in his throat. If anything, telling Cora should be easier. It’d been so many years already and even if he couldn’t make up for it and couldn’t bring his family back, at least he’d spent some time paying for it and trying. “She approached me at the school one day. I knew she was a Lycan-Hunter but… she told me she was interested in getting to know good werewolves, the ones she’d be protecting. There was a pack she thought was going to come after us.” He swallowed hard. “She wasn’t lying, Cora. So we’d meet up and talk and – she made a move. We – we had sex.” _I thought I loved her_ , he didn’t say. “And then she burned our family to the ground once she’d gotten all the information about our defenses and movements she could from me. It was my fault they all died.”

“Derek,” Cora said quietly. “You didn’t kill them.”

“I did.” He flashed his eyes again at her, like they were a badge. “These are proof enough I did.”

Cora shook her head and leaned forward. “Where did Laura send you?”

“To Deucalion and Alphas.” At this point, there was no reason not to be honest. He’d already told her his worst secret and Deucalion had never made him do anything worse or more horrifying than Derek was stupid enough to do himself. Besides, maybe by explaining it this way, it’d mean he wouldn’t get the kind of pushback he’d gotten from Erica and Boyd. They’d been the two he was closest to in the new pack, until they’d left and Laura sent him to Deucalion. He’d barely been part of Laura’s pack after that – a thought he’d been so uncomfortable with he tried not to think at all. “I’ve spent the last ten years working for him, doing odd jobs. Moving around. Research, mostly.” Deucalion did say he had a natural talent at observation.

“How often did you go back to Laura and her pack?”

He dropped the paper wrapper on the table and moved his glass as Tony returned with a large pizza and plates for them both. Derek fiddled with his food mostly to delay having to answer. He’d spent ten years deliberately _not_ thinking about this, assessing it, picking at it. Derek had known he was barely hanging on to his status as an “official” beta, both in terms of the lycan legal system and his standing in the pack. But it wasn’t like he could really confront Laura about it; their confrontation in her kitchen before heading to Beacon Hills showed that.

Not that it mattered now. As far as the state was concerned, he was an omega until Deucalion had claimed him. And the truth was… Derek trusted the other man a lot more than he trusted Laura. He’d spent more time listening to Deucalion’s orders, acting as _his_ beta, than he had Laura.

He sighed and confessed the truth, “Three times in ten years. About a month total.”

“Jesus, Derek,” Cora whispered and reached over to grab his hand, stilling his fingers where they were picking the mushrooms off his slice of pizza. He waited for her to say more and when she didn’t, Derek pulled his hand away.

“It’s over. Laura’s dead and I’ll be the alpha soon. I’ll do better than she did.” He took a deep breath and gave the last secret he had. “She repudiated the rest of her pack before calling me here, Cora. I don’t know what she was planning… but coming back and resettling to Beacon Hills was only the start.”

Something shifted on Cora’s face, replacing the pity with anger, maybe… hurt? He couldn’t read her anymore, not the way he could when they were kids. “Are you sure you want to do that, Derek? Are you sure you’re ready?”

He stiffened at her words and pushed the pizza away, appetite gone. “Someone has to. A Hale has to. Peter can’t, I won’t let you. It’s up to me.”

“You won’t _let_ me?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just. Killing someone changes you. I don’t want you to be a killer, Cora. Besides, I started this plan before I knew you were _alive_.”

“Derek, it sounds like you’ve been _alone_ since the fire.” Cora pushed his plate back to him and gave him a hard look, so like their mother’s had been, that he found himself picking up the pizza and eating it – mushrooms and all – before he’d realized it. “Do you really think it’d be good for you to try and lead a pack right now?”

“There’s no other choice. Someone has to do better for Peter; he’s getting better. We could make a _real_ home for him, hire a day nurse. He’d get better faster outside of the hospital,” Derek predicted. “And there’s you too.”

“I’ve been here taking care of Peter for three years without you _or_ Laura. We weren’t a consideration before, Derek, why should we be one now?”

He flinched at her words, the pizza he was chewing on tasting greasy and bad in his mouth. “We’re family.”

“The three of us having been family since the fire.” She didn’t say it but Derek was sure he could hear the words _the fire you set_ behind her words. Laura would’ve.

“So maybe it’s time we try to be again,” he tried.

“It’s not going to be so easy.” Cora dropped the crust of her first slice of pizza on her plate and took a second. “Not to win me or Peter over and not to start your own pack. You can’t just bite yourself a new family.”

He rubbed his fingers over his jaw, the beard on his cheek scratching against his hand. “I’d only need one more beta to stabilize the pack, if you and Peter submit,” he pointed out. “Then I could – _wait_. Grow a family naturally.” It’d be easier, in the end, than finding people he trusted enough who would fit well with the Hales. Especially if he wanted to do things differently than Laura had, than his mother had. “I want to do things right.”

Cora’s expression as she studied him reminded him fiercely of his mother and the way she could stare a person down and make them submit with just a raised eyebrow. Finally the expression passed and Cora nodded. “I believe you.”

He felt the air leave his gut at her words. It wasn’t forgiveness, it wasn’t acceptance – not really – but it was _something_. The frayed and broken bond in his heart healed just a little at hearing those three words. “Thanks.” It was probably inadequate to express how he was feeling but he was privately proud he’d managed even that. “Tell me about you, Cora. Where have you been?”

She picked up a piece of pizza, turned it in her hands, before putting it back down. “I stayed off the grid a lot after the fire. It’s easier when you don’t have to worry about food or safety the way humans do. When I’d moved enough and made enough contacts to put me in touch with someone who could get me a few identities, the trial happened.” She reached over and grabbed Derek’s wrist, squeezing tightly. “I really thought about just staying Cora Hale then – but when I heard about what Laura did after from Marcia Givens.” She stopped and shook her head, leaving Derek confused. He knew the name, Givens was a fairly large pack in the Midwest and Marcia was their matriarch. Deucalion liked to call them “subversive malcontents,” because they’d never particularly liked the Lycan regime and mostly went about undermining it legally. One of the Givens kids – Marcia’s granddaughter, Derek thought – even founded a Lycan-Human Alliance group dedicated to lobbying for equal rights for werewolves.

Derek still preferred self-governance; it wasn’t like humans were all that equal to each other anyway.

“How did you know Marcia Givens?” He asked and then paused before offering his _real_ question. “What did Laura do?” Laura had told him he was going to Alphas as they’d watched Kate Argent grabbed and pulled away, limp with shock, from the defense table after judgment was passed on her. Whatever she’d done after that, Derek hadn’t been around for.

“Laura sold our land to the city. They wanted to tear down the house, tear down the woods, and put up apartments.” Derek sucked in a breath at that and shook his head.

“She told me the county seized it and she was going to buy it back soon.” She had, eventually, though not in time to save the remains of the house. They’d torn it down about eight years ago. Boyd had called him after it was gone to check on him. It was just a house. It was what was left in the house – the faint smell of family, the ashes of burned bodies – that was important to him. Both would’ve faded after so long, though Derek was sure even eight years after the fire the burn marks were still tattooing the wood and walls. “She did, Cora, she bought it back.” He hesitated, thinking of all the things Laura had done. “And unless she had a will that says otherwise, it probably belongs to me now.”

“I ran into Marcia when I was seventeen, right after the fire. I trespassed onto her territory when I was drifting and instead of kicking me out, she took me in. Taught me the things I needed to know, helped me get my life back on track.”

“Is she why you don’t smell like a werewolf?”

He heard her heartbeat increase but she nodded. Something about the question made her nervous. Or maybe angry. “She helped me a lot, gave me a new family.” He flinched at her words but Cora continued. “At least until I was ready to go back and reclaim my own.”

“Did you?”

She shrugged and continued her story. “I stayed with them, got my GED, and Marcia made me apply to college. I figured nursing would help with Uncle Peter, at least, and it’s pretty decent money, especially for a werewolf.” Derek raised his eyebrows at that. Most jobs paid werewolves _less_ than humans. “We can pick up on injuries and diseases faster than human doctors or nurses and we take pain; it’s saving the hospital thousands of dollars even with our higher pay.”

“I’m proud of you, Cora,” Derek told her quietly; even though he was very aware that he didn’t really have ground to stand on to make that statement. “I think Laura mostly relied on… the inheritance to live and I never even finished high school. I’m glad you did better.”

“Didn’t you say you’d –“

“Deucalion fakes the papers,” he explained before she asked. “Sometimes the identities too.” He felt his face start to heat in embarrassment and knew his ears were turning red. This had never really bothered him before… but he’d never been trying to impress his dead little sister and convince her to be his beta in the future before either. “Plus I read a lot so I can pick up the information I need. Deucalion never sends me to really specialized positions.”

“Jesus, Derek, Laura really fucked you over.”

He shifted in his seat, resisting the urge to squirm at the whole discussion. “She tried her best,” he said but it was a weak defense. “So will you help me? Find the alpha? Get Laura’s killer?”

Cora’s eyes were blank and hooded and Derek wished he could read her expression and her scent, the way he used to be able to. For all that he felt the bond snap back into place, however weak it was they were still relative strangers. “I’ll help you find the alpha, Derek. What do you know?”

“It was fast,” he said, remembering the warehouse. “And probably a trap. Someone called it into the cops almost as soon as it was done because they beat me there.” He glared down at his plate and the pizza slice on it. “They arrested me halfway there; I was across town. By the time I was at the station, I had been charged with Laura’s murder.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “That had to be hard.”

Derek shrugged. “I have… a friend.” He heard his heart skip, as if he was lying. “She used to be a friend anyway, we lost touch. Erica Reyes. She was the first person Laura bit when she became alpha. Erica’s my lawyer and she drove up and got me out. I’m cleared of actually killing Laura.” He rolled his eyes. “But not of _arranging_ her murder.” He huffed. “The local alpha’s investigating, along with his partner.”

“McCall.” Cora’s tone was dismissive as she went on to eat her fourth slice of pizza. “He’s okay, I guess, but way too naïve. He cares about trying to do the right thing and he protects his people.”

“What a ringing endorsement,” Derek said dryly. “If Laura was coming back, she had rights to the territory over him. He’d have to leave. Peter established her continuous claim. And you too, if you wanted to come out as a Hale. He’s competition.”

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t do it. The person raised by Melissa McCall would never kill someone if there were other options,” Cora said, shaking her head. “And there were perfectly legal options open to him.”

“You like her.”

For the first time since he’d sit down, he saw Cora’s full, big, beautiful smile and it was like the ghost image of her at eleven was overlaid her face. “Melissa? Yeah, she’s great. She’d be pack, if she didn’t belong to her son by default.”

“She seemed nice when I met her. She offered me dinner and to help as soon as she found out whom I was and what happened to Laura,” Derek offered and tried to ignore the small smirk that appeared on Cora’s face. It’d been a long time since there was someone who was willing to tease him.

“Are you sure Laura’s the reason why she wanted to help?”

Derek waved the insinuation off. “I didn’t smell anything like _that_ from her, okay? I think she just wanted to help. She said Laura was a friend. I think Laura wanted to poach her or get information about her son from her.” He shrugged; either would be a thing Laura would do. “Apparently she asked for updates and checked up on Uncle Peter.”

Cora snorted and shook her head. “She might have stopped but I don’t think she ever went near him. I’ve been working at the hospital for a while and I never smelled Laura near him.”

Derek opened his mouth but paused when he caught the sound of his name.

“ _Yeah, he’s eating pizza with that nurse from the hospital, you know, the one your mom likes so much.”_

_“Do you think Hale is trying to make a move on my mom?”_

The voice – Stilinski – snorted. “ _Yeah, right, I think he’s more likely to make a move on the pretty nurse sitting right in front of him._ ”

Part of him wanted to go over and smack Stilinski. Derek restrained himself to glaring instead. Stilinski noticed his attention and waved cheerfully, the little shit. He sighed and looked back at Cora. She had followed his gaze and was frowning at Stilinski.

“Sorry,” Derek said quietly. “He probably followed me in here.”

“Isn’t that harassment?”

“Probably but I don’t think he much cares.” His voice was drier than he’d like but it was enough to prompt Cora to stand and, surprisingly, march over to where Stilinski was sitting at a corner table watching them. Derek pulled himself together and trailed after her, curious what she’d do.

Cora rested her hands on her hips and glared down at Stilinski. “Why are you here?”

“Getting a pizza,” Stilinski said smoothly, gesturing to the menu and holding it up. “I’m trying to decide between the Vegetarian Special 1 or 2 with sausage.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of the Vegetarian?” Derek asked, rolling his eyes.

“It’s cheaper than ordering a sausage with all the extra toppings,” Stilinski defended and dropped the menu down on his table.

“What do you want?” Cora asked again, her tone less angry at Stilinski’s easy manner, but just as guarded.

“Harsher punishment for parole violators,” Stilinski said, his voice glib and when Derek blinked at him, he added, “And world peace.”

Still confused by the answer – and the evasion from someone who’d been pretty straightforward in his dislike of Derek up to this point – he let Cora take the lead. She made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat and rolled her eyes. “Don’t be cute. That’s a movie quote and not a real answer. Are we going to have to call a lawyer and get a restraining order? Or are you going to stop following Derek around?”

“What does it matter to you?” Stilinski asked, the amusement dropping off his face. “Awfully fast for a guy you just met today, isn’t he? He must be an _amazing_ fuck.”

Internally, Derek was thinking _you’d be surprised_ , but all he did was raise his eyebrows and cross his arms over his chest. “Didn’t think _you’d_ be interested in finding out, Stilinski.”

“I’m not,” Stilinski said, but his heart skipped a beat and the way his eyes dropped to Derek’s forearms told a different story.

_Oh_ , he realized and decided to have a little fun.

He let his arms drop to his sides, making sure to ruffle the shirt he was wearing and expose a little of his stomach. Stilinski’s eyes followed the movement and Derek smiled. “It’s okay,” he said soft and quiet, easy even. “After all, lust is a perfectly good reason to be following someone around town, right? Watching their every move?” He gestured toward the phone sitting on the table. “Maybe taking a picture or two?” Cora snorted but didn’t interfere or stop him. “As a police officer, I’m sure you’re familiar with these exemplary romantic behaviors, right?” Derek reached up and touched his nose. “And the way werewolves can smell it, right?”

Stilinski’s mouth dropped open and his ears turned red in embarrassment. “Fuck off,” he snarled and Derek laughed.

“I’m not the one following you, Stilinski,” he pointed out and dropped a hand on Cora’s shoulder. “Or bothering my,” he hesitated and remembered the story Cora had told Melissa. “Friend.” He clenched his jaw. “ _Any other_ Sheriff and I’d report you, especially for what you said to her.”

Stilinski’s entire face was red and his scent carried traces of both anger and embarrassment. He looked over at Cora and nodded once. “I’m sorry; I was out of line with that crack. Just because I object to your choice of dinner date because he is a murder suspect – his own sister, by the way – and stupid enough to draw the attention of the California Lycan-Hunter commander – who thought he deserved killing, for the record – doesn’t mean I should insult you.”

“That’s some apology,” Cora drawled, shaking her head. She looked up at Derek. “We’re getting a box for the rest of the pizza. It smells bad in here.” She turned on her heel and made her way to the cash register, probably to pay and get the box.

“You should leave her alone,” Stilinski snapped at Derek and he shut his eyes and sighed to control his temper. As much as snapping back or, even better, cutting Stilinski’s throat with Derek’s teeth, might make the problem go away – it’d just add fifty more problems on top of it.

“Just because you’re jealous of her doesn’t mean you have any right to dictate what I – a free and innocent man – have to do,” Derek told him coolly. “And you are jealous.” He tilted his head. “I guess that explains why you’re such an asshole. I knew McCall had a reason – I’m a threat to his home since I have the better claim. I figured you were being an even bigger asshole in solidarity. I guess I was wrong. Must be hard to do your job if you’re getting distracted by wanting to be fucked by the prime suspect.” He inhaled deeply, making a show of it. “Especially when you’re a virgin at, what, twenty-five? Twenty-six?”

“I am not!” Stilinski yelped, banging in hand hard on the table. Several people nearby looked over and frowned at the noise and Derek heard Cora laughing.

Derek shrugged. “Surprisingly,” he mocked. “You’re not lying. Too bad, I was going to make an offer.” Stilinski’s face was bright red, all the way down to his neck, and Derek turned, giving a cheery little wave over his shoulder and went to meet Cora.

“Nice takedown,” she told him softly as she closed the box with the pizza and bumped him with her arm. “I usually sit with Uncle Peter for a while, try and take some of his pain, before my night shifts. Meet me at his room tomorrow night, 9pm. We’ll update him on what’s going on together.”

Derek managed a nod. “That –“ He swallowed and smiled at his sister. “That sounds really good.”

Cora smiled at him briefly and whisked the food away, leaving him behind. Still, agreeing to meet with him – and Uncle Peter – was a big concession and for the first time in a really long time, he felt good.

Hopeful, even.

Maybe Laura was dead now but Derek had spent years watching alphas work; he could and _would_ be a good one. He would take care of his family… and himself. He felt good enough to look over at Stilinski and give him a _real_ smile. It was worth it for the dumbstruck look on Stilinski’s face.

And the icing on the cake was that now Derek didn’t have to go a motel, or someone else’s apartment to sleep on their couch, or on particularly bad assignments his car.

Derek got to go _home_. He smiled all the way back to his new loft and woke up that way in the morning too.

He showered quickly, dressed, and moved to the main room to open the door and stare into the completely empty older fridge a former tenant had left behind in the loft. There really wasn’t anything new he could do for Laura – something would have to change, like getting the police report or a new murder – which left him at odds. He could probably get in touch with Melissa McCall and take her out for lunch if she wasn’t working, interrogate her about Laura’s comings-and-goings in Beacon Hills. But it wasn’t as if he had any other sources of information about what might have happened… and that only mattered if it was someone from Beacon Hills who’d done the killing. Derek would really be at square one if someone had hunted Laura here to kill her; he didn’t know enough about what she’d done over the last ten years to make any sorts of guesses on what enemies she had.

Then there was the Allison Argent problem. He’d insisted on making sure the injury was documented but he was going to have to follow-up and find some way to put pressure of the Lycan-Hunters to ensure she was punished for her actions. After all, she was an Argent, a hunter family from _before_ the lycan system and the deliberate exposure of werewolves. She was an Argent – a member of the family that had a political stranglehold on the lycan system and the ear of the President.

Gerard Argent, cabinet member and BLA Chief, had more than enough pull to cover this up and let his granddaughter go on her merry way.

Derek slammed the fridge door shut and appreciated the solid bang the action provided. He’d have to head to the California Lycan-Hunters headquarters and speak to Argent’s second.

Allison Argent would be an easier problem to solve than his sister’s murder.

The California Lycan-Hunter Headquarters, located twenty minutes out of Beacon Hills, was a building created with intimidation in mind. From the gray concrete to the steel bars on the window and the faint sounds of gunshots in the distance – probably an outdoor rifle range or training ground – the entire complex was designed to tell visitors to “fuck off.” It was an image that Derek never stopped finding funny; especially in contrast the warm and welcoming changing centers. It wouldn’t be so funny if the entire system hadn’t been designed by _Argents_. He still remembered the first time he’d seen a Lycan-Hunters Headquarters when he’d been a kid. His mom had taken him and Laura both and said, “This is what humans find comforting. They think this means safety. They think this means power. We know better.”

Twenty-five years later and Derek still knew better. The humans could hide behind steel and concrete, behind laws to hold onto their privilege, but he knew that it was only a matter of time. Because the Lycan-Hunter Headquarters wasn’t an exercise in power or intimidation – it was an exercise in _fear_. Their fear.

He sneered at the building and made his way inside. He felt something shift, run over him, as he crossed the threshold, and frowned. Looking up, Derek saw a light turn red and sighed, stopping as several well-armed men and women started to converge on him.

“Hands up, lycan!” A black woman pointing a loaded crossbow at him shouted.

Derek shut his eyes briefly before raising his hands slowly. “Do you treat all your visitors like this?”

“Just the lycan ones,” she replied. “Face down on the ground, _now!_ ” Derek scowled at her but did as he was told, kneeling easily before dropping down completely. He felt the press of a gun to the back of his head. “Why are you here?”

“Are all the guns really necessary?” Derek asked, instead of answering.

“Yes,” the woman snapped.

“We have an ID, Harley,” a male voice said from nearby. “That’s Derek Hale.”

“Great,” the black woman – Harley, apparently -- sighed. “Why are you here, Hale?”

“Because I wanted to talk to someone about Allison Argent’s _unprovoked_ attack on me. I suppose I can add _this_ treatment to the list of grievances too.”

The gun pressed hard into his head, digging in almost painfully. “Take him to Martin,” Harley ordered and the gun pulled away. Derek stayed on the floor, just in case. “Let her handle him. That’s what she’s good at.”

“Get up, lycan.” Derek did as he was told and raised an eyebrow at Harley.

“You are not my problem,” she informed him easily and turned around, walking away.

“In front of me.” A curly-haired man remained as the group dispersed. He held his handgun easily, pointing it directly at Derek’s chest. “I’ll give you directions and where we’re going, lycan, but you’re not walking behind me.”

“Don’t worry,” Derek said to him, tone dry as dust. “When I try to kill you, I’ll be going for your face, not your back.”

“Just walk, _animal_.”

The trip through the building was probably longer than necessary. Derek had a feeling he was being led the long way around, either to give “Martin” more time to prepare or to keep Derek out of the eye of many of the curly-haired man’s coworkers.

“You’ve got some balls to come here, lycan,” the man said.

“I didn’t realize ‘wanting justice’ required balls.”

“Justice is when all of you are dead,” the man spat.

“You fit right in with every other bigot I’ve ever met,” Derek told him, making sure to keep his voice light and amused even while the hair on the back of his neck  was standing up at being in a vulnerable position with this man behind him, 

“I’m not a bigot,” the man snapped, twisting the barrel of the gun harder into Derek’s spine. He leaned close enough Derek could feel the man’s breath in his hair. “One of you bastard shifters killed my father. _I’m_ the one who makes sure justice happens and lycans like you just walking around free and uncontrolled _isn’t_ justice.”

“Neither is what Kate Argent did to my family – some of whom were _human children_. Neither is what Allison Argent tried to do to me.” He felt stupid enough bothering; the man behind him was a lost cause and the more he talked the more likely the man would be to just shoot Derek.

It wouldn’t matter that there were no cameras or that Derek was killing in the Lycan-Hunters Headquarters. The man might be punished for it… but Derek would be dead.

“Walk faster.” The gun moved away from his back and Derek did what he was told. “Stop. _Stay_.” The man nudged him to the side of a door, the gun still trained center-mass on Derek’s chest. “Martin,” he called out.

“Get in here, Lahey!” a woman’s voice called. Lahey opened the door and Derek got his first look at the mysterious “Martin.” She was tiny, barely over five-feet tall, with curly red hair pulled away from her face. She was beautiful and young, probably the same age as Cora. “Derek Hale,” she said and her eyes assessed him with as much discernment as Derek was applying to her. “Sit down.” She waved to an uncomfortable looking chair in front of her neat and almost empty desk. The only thing on the entire desk was a fat file folder and a laptop, with the case closed. Her office chair squeaked as she leaned back and she turned her gaze on Lahey. “You’re not needed,” she informed him coldly.

Lahey’s neck flushed red and he shook his head. “You’re not safe with –“

“Isaac,” Martin snapped and raised an eyebrow. “If Mr. Hale wanted to hurt me, he wouldn’t have walked – _unarmed_ – into our headquarters. If he wants to hurt me, I’d guess it has more to do with his family’s treatment by the Lycan-Hunters, including this visit. So why don’t you make yourself useful and go update Scott.” Her voice was polite and pleasant… and full of command. For all that Allison Argent was the head of the California Lycan-Hunters, Derek would bet everything he owned that _this_ woman was the real power. Argent probably handled the training of new hunters and hunt assignments but Martin did everything else. She made sure palms got greased, that incidents were swept under the rug, even the PR necessary to keep the general public from realizing they were subsidizing government death squads. In that light, her defense of Derek made absolute sense; she was the silk glove, trying to caress and soothe his injuries after the he encountered the fist of the organization. She was going to try and bring him over to her point of view sweetly.

Too bad Derek lost his taste for the _sweet_ of Lycan-Hunters when he was fifteen and met Kate.

“Fine,” Lahey snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring down at Derek. “I’m stationing guards outside though so all you have to do is call if you need help.”

“Down the hall,” Martin contradicted. “You know how well sound carries in this hallway, Isaac, and I feel like Mr. Hale would prefer a private conversation.”

Lahey glared at her but nodded. “Fine. I’ll let Harley know and then go update Scott.” He ducked out of the room and Derek turned back to Martin.

“I am Lydia Martin,” she said, leaned over her desk to offer her hand. Derek stared at it for a moment, waiting, before she retracted the hand. “I suppose that’s fair.” She resettled in her chair, crossing her legs. “My official title is Chief Administrator,” she explained. “Basically that means I handle the bureaucracy for the California Lycan-Hunters. That includes reviewing all evidence and approving hunts if needed.”

Derek nodded, leaning away from her and raising his eyebrows. “So you’re the fixer. That doesn’t make the vendetta the Argents seem to have against Hales any more justified than it was when Kate Argent burned my family alive – including my human family members. _Children_.”

“That was an unsanctioned action,” Martin told him primly, threading her fingers together on top of her knee. “And she was punished for it quite publicly.”

“Only because my sister – _my murdered sister_ – collected evidence and went to the media. Nobody cared until she broadcast that the Lycan-Hunters were harboring a psychopath on MSNBC.”

Her expression remained completely blank but he was studying her enough and astute enough with his senses to feel the change; she was anxious about this meeting. Martin was _worried_. Derek leaned forward and smelled her sweat increase even as she answered. “Given how long ago that was, I assume you’re not here about remuneration.” She leaned back in her chair further, tilting the seat up and back. “Especially as your sister has already received a settlement package from us.”

“I’m here about Allison Argent and how she followed me, threatened to kill me, and then stabbed me with a knife laced with wolfsbane. Unprovoked.”

“I see.” Martin let the chair drop back flat and smiled at him. Derek resisted the urge to frown in response. Whatever she was nervous about… it wasn’t this. There was _something_ the Lycan-Hunters knew and didn’t want him to ask about. But apparently that something wasn’t Argent. Maybe Laura? “I’m afraid to report that, given your past transgressions,” she tapped her nails against the thick file. “You have been marked as ‘monitor closely.’ When you crossed the police line, understandable as the action may be given your sister, you trespassed and gave Allison Argent cause to approach you and warn you off.”

“So being _stabbed_ is a warning? That would’ve gone into my heart and killed me if I’d been quicker or she’d been less sloppy,” he burst out and then shook his head. “This just proves it; the Lycan-Hunters want all Hales _dead_.”

She sighed but he could tell her exasperation was feigned. She still smelled relieved. “Of course we don’t. Our job is to monitor lycans and contain those that are threats. We are the lycan equivalent of the pol –

“Don’t patronize me,” he spat at her and leaned forward. She shifted to mirror his action. “I want to see the progress made on Laura’s murder – since I know you’re kept informed when an alpha dies –“ He heard a soft, almost noiseless inhalation. “And I want to know what punishment Allison Argent earned for attacking me.”

“All information about your sister’s murder will be made available to you after the investigation is finished, Mr. Hale. That’s policy,” Martin said, her heartbeat speeding up minutely. So whatever she was nervous about, whatever the woman and the Lycan-Hunters wanted to hide, it had to do with Laura. “And as for Commander Argent, she has been placed on leave, pending an investigation.”

“Leave with pay,” he guessed, raising his eyebrows at her.

“That’s the policy,” Martin informed him and made a little shrugging gesture, as if to say, “not my choice, I didn’t write them, don’t blame me.” Derek snorted at her. “Is there anything else?”

“How about we go back to my original questions which you still haven’t answered: what do you know about what happened to Laura?”

“As I said, Commander Argent is suspended until we make a full investigation of what happened that night.” She smiled at him and while it was sweet, innocent looking, Derek _knew_ that smile was just hiding malice. “But maybe we can kill two birds with one stone, Mr. Hale, and have you give your statement while you’re here. It will save you the trouble of having to come back.”

“Lycan Office McCall and Officer Stilinski,” he worked to keep his annoyance out of his voice at the names, “interviewed me at the hospital when I was being treated for wolfsbane poisoning. I shouldn’t need to give a second statement.”

She waved a hand in the air lightly. “While I know both deputies are good at their jobs, for internal matters, we’re required to complete our own investigation. Keeps the tax-payers happy!” Her voice was cheery.

“I’m a tax-payer,” Derek pointed out. “I’m not happy.” He clenched his jaw and glared at her. “What’s the ultimate punishment?”

“For an attack like that, she could be stripped of her position and removed from the Lycan Hunters permanently.”

“That’s a good _start_. How about prison time as well? That’s what you’d do if she attacked a _human_ unprovoked.”

“Oh, Mr. Hale,” Martin sighed, her voice going syrupy and sympathetic. He realized she was doing it because he’d given away more than he’d meant to; she knew this pissed him off and was doing it to make him go away faster. “That’s not the way the law works. Given your –“ there was a slight pause. “ _Activism_ against lycan law, I’m surprised you don’t know that. Lycans _don’t_ have the same rights as humans. An attack on a lycan causes less damage than an attack on a human. It’s just not fair to punish people the same when one crime is lesser than the other.”

He inhaled deeply to keep hold of his temper. He had less patience for the bullshit people told themselves to help oppress others than he used to after working with Alphas. For the most part, Derek’s jobs had been kept separate from the public relations and media work of convincing the general population that werewolves were people first and foremost. It was easier now than it had been after the original reveal, not that people had almost a hundred years to get used to the idea. Especially since it’d been a hundred years without any wild reports of werewolf attacks. Even the historically vicious and fractious packs had mostly cleaned up their acts and left the violence behind tightly closed doors to keep from risking further loss of rights. Derek’s place within the work had been simple, but important jobs: watch and report, finding the oppression, talk to someone who influences the werewolf community in key locations, and his personal favorite, protection details. All necessary and _behind-the-scenes_ work for the werewolf movement.

But that was the problem; it was all behind-the-scenes. Derek often saw the _worst_ of what humans did to werewolves and the woman, for all her beauty and feigned sweetness, was just another cog in the wheel that crushed people.

“Physical attacks still hurt. We have to heal from them just like humans,” he pointed out acidly. “We just do it quicker.” He paused, thinking of his uncle. “And some injuries we don’t heal from at all. But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised a Lycan-Hunter buys into the bullshit. When’s the last time a shifter actually _attacked_ someone?” She opened her mouth to talk, probably spew off facts, and Derek sliced his hand through the air sharply. “We’re getting off track: my involvement in making sure Allison Argent gets _all_ that she deserves and what you know about my sister’s murder.”

“Your involvement, as you put it, ends with an interview. This is an internal matter.”

He stared at her for a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his cell phone. No signal, of course. He raised his eyebrows at her. “As soon as I leave, I’m calling my lawyer to see about taking this – and _you_ – to court.” As far as he knew, it’d never been done before. Most werewolves were too scared of the Lycan-Hunters to fight back. Or dead. Besides, for all that Erica was ready to be done with him she’d jump at the chance to strike a blow at the Lycan-Hunters. “Even if I can’t force criminal charges, I can make the civil case very costly.” He smiled, returning a little of Martin’s false sweetness back to her. “And since it was _my family_ and _my rape_ that netted the first criminal prosecution of a Lycan-Hunter, I’m betting I have a pretty good shot at both.” His stomach clenched at saying the word and using his pain that way but – Laura had never had an issue with trotting him and his stupidity at believing Kate’s lies, of falling in love with her, of – of letting her manipulate and order him into bed with her. So he could and would do it too.

“I’m sure that’s not necessary; there will be an appropriate punishment to satisfy you, Mr. Hale.” She pursed her lips before giving him a tight smile. “I’ll make sure of that.”

“Doubtful,” he told her honestly and coldly. After all, the only thing that would _really_ satisfy him anymore would be the abolition of lycan laws and the separation by law of human and wolf. “You’ll make sure she keeps her job. At least.” He smirked at Martin, _daring_ her to contradict him.

“Not her current job,” Martin snapped instantly. “We obviously can’t let someone whose judgment is compromised leading the Lycan-Hunters.” Derek quirked an eyebrow at that admission but let her continue. “Her second will take over and she’ll be demoted.” He waited for the other shoe to drop. “ _If_ the investigation finds the action warranted. We won’t just take your word for it about what happened, Mr. Hale. The Lycan-Hunters require more proof than someone’s _word_ before we make a decision.” He opened his mouth and she held a hand up, palm out, to stop him. “That is true of both internal and external investigations. That’s _my_ job, Mr. Hale.”

“How long will her demotion last? How _much_ of a demotion? If she leaves California and moves to another state, could she start up all over again where she’s _not_ being watched and keep getting away with abuses of power?”

“We decide things like that on a case-by-case basis, as I’ve said,” Martin told him firmly. “And until the investigation is complete, I can’t give you more information.”

Derek leaned forward, easily letting some of his _real_ anger show on his face. “Then, since you can’t promise me _justice_ in any real form, you’ll give me a copy of the file on my sister’s murder.”

A line appeared in Martin’s forehead as she frowned and shook her head. A lock of red hair she had tied back into a bun slid out and rested against her cheek. “We don’t –“

“Don’t even _try_ to lie to a werewolf,” he grit out and slammed his hand against the top of her desk, half-enjoying the way Martin jumped. If persuasion wouldn’t work, maybe force would. “You have a copy, you know of the conflict of interest in a trespasser alpha _investigating the murder_ of a territorial alpha but you’re not forcing the Sheriff’s department to hand the case off to anyone else _or_ requesting the FLBI’s help.” It wasn’t that Derek believed the federal government’s lycan-related crimes investigative branch would be any more helpful than McCall and Stilinski were but something told him Laura wouldn’t get justice from _anyone_ in Beacon Hills.

“No,” Martin told him. “We don’t give out case files belonging to other organizations. You’re better off making that request to the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department directly. I’m sure they’ll do their best to solve your sister’s murder.” She gave him a tight, cold smile and Derek knew the words were supposed to be an obvious dismissal.

“The cover-up won’t last.” Her heart skipped a beat at that and Derek smiled. While he didn’t know exactly what or why Martin was doing – she did have information relevant to him and Laura. She _knew_ something. “I won’t be so nice if I have to come back,” he told her, keeping his voice gentle as he stood up.

“I’m sure you’ll be _exactly_ what we’re expecting if you come back, Mr. Hale.”

“I’ll see myself out. I’d rather not be held at gunpoint by your organization twice in one day.” He strode out of her office before she could reply.

He stormed through the hallways, glaring at Lahey and the _four_ Lycan-Hunters standing fifty yards from Martin’s office, and ignored them as they trained their weapons on him. He continued to ignore the way they formed an escort around him as Derek sped up, eager to be out of the building.

“Next time you come here, we’ll put you down, lycan,” Lahey muttered softly, probably too softly for anyone but Derek to hear, as he reached the front door and slammed it open. He sneered at the other man and turned his back in a deliberate show of nonchalance.

Of course, as soon as he saw who was waiting for him outside, his shoulders straightened and he found himself even more on guard than he had been in the Lycan-Hunter Headquarters.

Deucalion and Kali stood there, watching him as he slowed and walked toward them. Kali looked simultaneously bored and angry as she scowled at him and the building, almost as if she wanted to rip it apart with her bare hands. Or maybe she just wanted to rip _Derek_ apart with her bare hands. Either way she wasn’t able to and Derek knew how much the feeling of being blocked or stopped from doing something she wanted to frustrated Kali.

Deucalion’s expression was even worse than the mixture on Kali’s: he just looked disappointed. A small frown was on the man’s face and he had his head cocked toward the building, obviously listening to the sounds coming from inside. Deucalion’s hearing had always been more acute than the normal werewolf – even the normal alpha – for as long as Derek had known him.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asked as he came to a stop in front of the pair of alphas.

“I think, perhaps, the better question is what are _you_ doing here, Derek?” Deucalion turned the words on him and it was such a parental, disappointed tone Derek had to stop himself from crossing his arms over his chest defensively. He didn’t want Deucalion to know it bothered him.

“I went to ask about Laura’s case and –“

“And Allison Argent,” Deucalion finished, frowning. “Derek, you’ll never last very long as an alpha if you continue to make these,” he waved his hands at the building. “Kinds of impulsive decisions.”

“I handled it.” Derek kept his voice firm and even and raised his eyebrows at Deucalion and Kali. “I would have called you if I needed you.”

“And if you were attacked while you were inside, do you really think you would have been able to call?”

“I handled it, there wasn’t a problem,” he repeated. “And when I’m an alpha, I won’t be calling you for help anyway.”

Deucalion sighed and shook his head, as if he thought Derek was being stupid. His chest tightened with anger at the treatment because that – _that_ – reminded him of his mother, of Laura, when she would deign to talk to him. “Did you at least get what you came for?”

He considered the question and nodded. While he hadn’t gotten either a promise of _real_ punishment or Laura’s file, he’d found out something more valuable. Whatever happened to Laura – Lydia Martin was connected to it. “I found out enough to give me a place to start.”

Deucalion’s gaze stayed on his face for a moment before he reached out and grabbed Derek’s upper arm. The grip was clawed and tight enough to draw blood. “Just remember your real purpose here, Derek. To avenge your sister and claim the alpha status for yourself, to become greater and show your family what they missed and disdained all these years. Don’t let anything stop you from doing that.”

Derek jerked his arm out of Deucalion’s grip, ignoring the buzz as the scratches and punctures healed nearly instantly. “I know what I’m doing,” he repeated.

“When you become alpha,” Deucalion said, “the first thing you should do is a fullshift. I think you’ll find it… _transformative_.”

“I don’t shift,” he said flatly. Having spent so many years as an animal at the whim of other people, he wasn’t going to take the chance again.

Deucalion’s lips curled up in a smile. “You’ll want to, when you become an alpha.” Beside him, Kali nodded, her expression unexpectedly serious. “We all do.”

He wanted to sneer at them both but – even _Kali_ looked serious so Derek decided to take it seriously. Maybe it was the adjustment to having more power that forced people into their alpha form? Maybe it was the psychological reaction to having killed for that power? Whatever the reason, Derek assumed he was going to need to be mentally prepared for the trouble to come. After being stuck in a shift for so long and then denying the shift for even longer…

What sort of wolf would he turn into?

He inhaled deeply and just nodded at Deucalion. “I don’t need your help for this.”

“So you prefer the government’s help? Help from the people who destroyed your family?” The amusement in his tone pissed Derek off faster than disbelief would have.

“I don’t trust them!” he lashed out. “I don’t want their help. What I _want_ is for them to give me the information I’m owed and leave me the hell alone.”

Deucalion’s lips quirked up and Kali laughed outright. “You know better than that, Derek,” she said, her voice smooth and full of laughter. “You’re a werewolf; until we destroy the lycan system –“

“Or take it over and make it our own,” Deucalion interrupted. Kali glared at him, not that he could see it.

“Until it’s gone, you’ll _never_ be left alone.” Her voice turned triumphant and she reached out to run her fingers through Derek’s hair. “The Hales are famous. You’re a case study in universities. You made law history. You’re our beautiful poster child for all that’s wrong with the system.”

He shuddered at her words and jerked his head away. “Not. Happening.”

“It will if you want any real changes made once you’re an alpha.” Deucalion’s smooth voice and easy smile made it sound as if it was inevitable but Derek –

He just didn’t have that in him. There was no way he could do a job like that and have a family again, _especially_ given his uncle’s condition and Cora’s apparent desire to stay hiding. “That’s just not me,” he explained. “I’ve got to think of the rest of my family now – that’s my job.”

“I’m sure your uncle will un –“

“ _Not_ just Peter.” He licked his lips and smiled, still a little unable to believe it. “My little sister, Cora, survived too. She’s here, working at the hospital as a nurse.”

Deucalion seemed surprised by the news where Kali just looked bored. Unsurprising, given how little she cared about anyone but Ennis anymore. “Congratulations, Derek. I know how much you’ve missed having a family despite my best efforts to help you integrate. I only hope your sister thinks as much of you as you do her in this time of troubles.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the back-handed words. “Thank you. But I need to go, if I’m going to finish this.”

“Where?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. “It’s time I go see Deaton.”

Deucalion smiled at Derek’s words and stepped away, gesturing Derek vaguely toward the nearly empty visitor’s parking lot. “That sounds like a very good idea, Derek. I think you’ll be surprised at the changes in the Hale Pack emissary.”

He remembered the man the last time he’d seen the man and shrugged. “I doubt he’s changed that much.” Silent, unwilling to give information, and kind of an asshole. “Lead them,” his ass. Apparently Deaton had wanted a regime change of his own, even before Derek had found out about emissaries. Laura had been pissed when she’d found Deaton talking to him alone, after she’d announced she was sending Derek away. In a small act of rebellion, Derek had kept quiet about what Deaton had been saying. Laura had given him her meanest scowl but hadn’t punished him further; of course, he’d been out of the pack house the next day. Maybe she figured that was punishment enough.

“I’m sure you’ll see what I mean soon enough,” Deucalion called after him and Kali laughed. Derek ignored them both as he headed to his car and got on his way to the vet clinic he assumed Deaton still owned.

The place hadn’t changed in ten years… except for the Sheriff’s car parked outside. He sighed as what Deucalion had been hinting at hit him; Deaton wasn’t the Hale pack emissary anymore. He probably hadn’t been since the fire, despite what Laura had thought. He parked next to the Sheriff’s car, seeing no reason to wait or hide. It’d be better to confront Deaton with clear evidence of his betrayal.

He walked inside and found himself stopped by the ash barrier Deaton had built into the waiting area, tilting his head to hear the quiet voices of Deaton and McCall in the back. “What’s the best way to get him out of town?”

“I know you don’t particularly like using the legal system for your gain but that seems to be the best route,” Deaton was saying. “Find out who killed Laura Hale and take care of it _quietly_ while Derek takes the public blame.”

He resisted the urge to growl at the man who should have been helping _him_ but instead was guiding the usurper. Instead, he figured he’d get more information by keeping quiet.

“Someone just came in, Doc,” McCall said, his voice quiet. “And I’ll think about it. I need to talk to Stiles and Isaac anyway. Lydia too.”

Their voices fell silent and Derek listened to Deaton’s footsteps as he approached the front. “Derek? What are doing here?”

“Probably for the same reason McCall’s here,” he told the other man pointedly. “How long have you been betraying the Hale Pack?”

“I didn’t betray the Hale Pack,” Deaton replied calmly. “Laura abdicated her responsibilities and the territory when she left and formed a pack elsewhere. All she had to do was come to me to formally request my assistance as her emissary. She never did.”

“So now you’re the McCall Pack emissary.” He jerked his chin toward the back where McCall was probably waiting, maybe even listening in. “In a territory that is by _both_ laws Hale territory.”

“You and –“

“Uncle Peter was here,” he cut Deaton off. “Is here,” Derek amended. “It’s ours. It’ll be mine when I’m alpha.”

“And you’re here to tell me that?” Deaton raised his eyebrows.

“No.” He kept his voice pleasant and smiled, eyes flicking toward the backroom and the slow, soft footsteps coming closer, the sound of a weapon being taken out of its holster. “I came to get some answers and to give you a warning.”

“A warning about what?” McCall asked. He had his gun out and Derek could smell the wolfsbane rounds that were loaded in it. It was pointed toward the floor.

“That the McCall Pack won’t be welcome here once I take care of Laura’s killer. That includes you, Deaton.”

“Your request is going to be denied,” McCall told him firmly. “They won’t side with you. Not against someone that’s established.”

Derek raised his eyebrows at McCall. “They’ll side with me if they want to follow the laws, something I think a Deputy would know a little about. No matter what _connections_ ,” he spat the word thinking of both Erica’s words that McCall had dated a _hunter_ and Martin’s insistence on keeping McCall updated. “You think you have. Even those connections have to follow the law and risk _you_ being the one to lock them up.” Derek smiled viciously at the younger alpha. “Actually, I’m hoping you try and bend the rules. I’m getting a lot of enjoyment of the thought of you being the one to arrest Allison Argent for assault and battery.”

McCall snorted and shook his head. “Not likely.”

Derek turned his smile on Deaton. “Did Laura contact you when she came back?”

“Yes,” Deaton said simply and the small, dark part of Derek enjoyed McCall’s visible surprise at the honest answer.

“Why?”

“She brought me a picture of a deer.” Derek waited for him to continue further and when Deaton didn’t, rolled his eyes and gestured to Deaton to go on. “The deer had been marked in its own blood with the sign for vendetta. Someone had sent her the picture, postmarked Beacon Hills with no return address and no scent she could decipher, two weeks before she brought you here.”

“So she was lured here,” he guessed. Someone had wanted to take her alpha status.

Maybe _that_ was what Martin knew. Finding a true and complete scent remover was rare – only the Lycan-Hunters had one.

Barring the alphas that could do it and whatever trick Cora had picked up.

“Probably,” Deaton agreed, resting his hip against the mountain ash barrier he’d installed in his office.

“Why did you encourage me to challenge Deucalion?”

Deaton laughed softly. “You can’t guess? Your mother made me promise to watch out for you.”

“And letting Laura –“ He cut himself off, looking at McCall. Derek wasn’t about to shame himself and his alpha – for however little that meant to her – before an _outsider_. “Just letting us leave without help, encouraging me to get myself killed by challenging the strongest alpha in North America is ‘watching out for me’?” Derek just stared incredulously at Deaton’s closed and even expression before turning his gaze to McCall. “You might want to rethink your choice of emissary, given the loyalty he showed to his _first_ Pack.” With that parting shot, Derek turned to go. There wasn’t anything else Deaton could or would tell him.

“It’s not as simple as that, Derek,” Deaton called after him. “Twenty years of silence is hard to break!”

Derek ignored the words and the way ‘twenty years’ niggled at him as he stormed out of the vet clinic. What did “twenty years” have to do with anything? The fire had been fifteen years ago –

But his dad had died twenty years ago, after he’d traveled on his mother’s orders. Part of him wanted to go back and just _beat_ the answers out of Deaton but the larger part of him knew he had something better waiting for him tonight.

Besides, Deaton was a liar whose loyalty could apparently be bought easily.

Later, when he had alpha power, he could come back and get his answers – before evicting Deaton from the territory completely. It’d be more satisfying that way.

It felt good to have a plan in mind.

In the meantime, he could head back to the loft, finishing setting up his new home before going to meet Cora.

He smiled as he slid into his car, the anger slipping away. Things were looking up for Derek and the Hales.

He left for his meeting with Cora and Peter early, making a detour to pick up some food. He wasn’t sure if Cora would have eaten during her shift and Derek figured even the small things like providing would keep him in her good graces. He would need her support, not only to figure out who the alpha was, but to untangle the mess with the Lycan-Hunters and Martin’s involvement with Laura’s death.

Perhaps even more importantly, Cora could help him remember how to settle down and live without moving all the time, without taking orders, without being paranoid he’d end up like Deucalion’s pack. She’d managed what both he and Laura never did and as much as Derek wanted to be a good alpha for Cora and Uncle Peter, Derek knew he’d have to learn from them to do it.

It wasn’t like he could use Deucalion or Laura as examples.

He slid into the hospital, holding the bags of pasta and salad in his arms, and took a deep breath. Now that he was paying attention, even amidst the hodgepodge of people and chemical scents he could pick out both Uncle Peter and Cora. The hit of _family_ was reassuring and he smiled in spite of himself, readjusting the bags and heading for Uncle Peter’s room. He kept his head down and tried not to --

“Derek!” He sighed at the sound of Melissa McCall’s voice. He pasted on a smile and turned to look at her. Her curly hair was escaping her ponytail and she had a tired smile on her face for him. She nodded down at his bags and raised her eyebrows, “Going for dinner?”

“With Uncle Peter and Cora,” he told her.

Melissa patted his shoulder. “Tell Cora I say hello, I haven’t seen her all shift.”

Derek’s smile got a little more real. “I have extra… do you want some spaghetti?”

“That’s really nice of you, Derek, thanks.” She shook her head. “My son’s supposed to be bringing me dinner soon. When you’re done, stop by and ask again. Sometimes Scott forgets.”

Derek fished into the bag and pulled out the fifth tray of spaghetti he’d ordered and handed it to her. “Take it anyway. If he shows up, then you’ve got food to take home, right?”

Melissa took the tray and nodded. “Thanks, Derek. Go on, go find Cora. She deserves a good meal with a handsome man.”

He felt his cheeks heat up both at the compliment and at the implication. Maybe Erica would have a few ideas on how to handle making Cora a Hale again without her being prosecuted for hiding her identity. Derek nodded at Melissa and headed on his way, tracing the scent of _family_ , of where Uncle Peter and Cora spent a lot of their time.

He could pick up Cora’s scent, faintly, and feel her through the newly refreshed ties but Derek decided the best place to go would be to Uncle Peter’s room. There was no point in forcing it with Cora and right now it’d be better to try and rebond with Peter. It would make his transition from beta to alpha easier and maybe even give Derek a few ideas on things that could be done to help his uncle heal faster.

He knocked on the door lightly before pushing it open. The room was empty but dark; the window shades had been pulled shut and the light was turned off. “Hey Uncle Peter,” Derek said quietly. “I brought dinner. For you, me, and Cora.” He swallowed as he identified his uncle’s still form parked in front of the window, the same way he’d been a few days ago. As werewolves, neither of them actually needed the light but –

The room would probably feel less cold and abandoned if Peter wasn’t sitting in the dark. “I’m going to turn the light on now,” he warned and waited a few seconds before flipping the switch and moving fully into the room. Derek made sure to shut the door behind him, muffling the sounds of the rest of the hospital.

He smiled hesitantly at his uncle and dropped the food on the bedside table. “I meant what I said earlier,” Derek told Peter quietly. “I’m staying and I want to make sure things are better.” His eyes traced the lines of silver in Peter’s brown hair. It was strange to see his uncle old; Derek’s memories from before the fire had been of Peter, twenty-five and vibrant, headstrong and manipulative for himself and the pack. Seeing him get old was unsettling. “I got a loft.” He snorted. “It’s got a hole in the wall and an alarm so I know when people are coming over. I got paranoid when I was away from Beacon Hills. When I didn’t have a real pack.” He raised his eyebrows at the two new chairs in the room that Cora must have brought in. She’d make a good second, covering his blind spots and having foresight into the things he couldn’t. She’d grown up well. “Things are going to change, Uncle Peter. For all three of us and for the better.”

“You’re right,” Cora said from behind him. He turned but not before noticing the small upturn of lips on Peter’s face. Being with a pack, with _family_ , was helping him. Laura… hadn’t done the right thing when she’d made both of them leave him behind. “Things are going to change.” Cora was leaning against the doorjamb, just watching them.

“When I find the alpha.”

“Things have already changed, Derek,” Cora said and he watched her take a deep breath.

Then her eyes turned red, deep, bloody, alpha red.

Derek froze in place, next to the chair he was intending to sit in, instincts and memories competing. The last time a family member had shown him those red eyes had been when Laura ordered him to Beacon Hills. And the time before _that_ had been when she was ordering him into his fullshift for years.

But this was Cora, not Laura, not his mother. This was an _alpha_ and – he knew she wanted him for his pack.

He swallowed heavily and dropped down into the chair next to Uncle Peter. The least he could do was hear out why she just hadn’t _said_ she was an alpha. He would have been happy to share control of the territory with her, to build the Hale family back up again together, when he caught and killed Laura’s murderer. “You’re an alpha.”

Cora nodded and let her eyes fade back to their more normal warm brown. Her expression was blank but he could see faint lines – laugh lines – around her eyes crinkling. She was nervous. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Cora?”

“I –“ She paused and entered the room completely. Cora moved to take the other chair and reached out to take Uncle Peter’s hand. Derek’s gaze dropped as Peter’s fingers curled around her own. “ _We_ weren’t sure you could be trusted.”

“I’m family,” he said softly, stung by the accusation.

“So was Laura.”

Derek shook his head adamantly. “You could have told me, Cora. Now I don’t have to worry about you being alone. You’re my little sister, I used to help you with your homework, remember? Play with you. I wouldn’t. I _wouldn’t_.” He couldn’t even come up with examples of things he could do that might hurt or betray Cora, especially after she’d kept this secret for so long. Not only had she hidden her life from the Lycan-Hunters and the registry, she’d kept her _status_ a secret as well. “This – it’s _good_. It’s amazing to see you as an alpha. Do you have a pack, a real one? Can I meet them? I’ll need to, if we’re going to share the territory.”

Cora sighed and looked at Uncle Peter. His lips were turned up into a crooked smile and Derek’s heart started beating faster when he heard the sound of raspy and rusty laughter.

Coming from his Uncle. Cora nodded her head sharply at a cup with a straw placed next to Peter’s bed. Derek took the hint and filled it up with water from the bathroom sink, coming back to his seat. He offered the cup to Cora and she rolled his eyes at him. So he placed the straw at Uncle Peter’s lips and watched the man drink thirstily. “He doesn’t understand,” Peter said, his voice tight and dry and harsh and _beautiful_.

Derek’s own throat felt a little tight at the sound. Uncle Peter was laughing. _Uncle Peter was talking_.

“I know,” Cora told Peter, her voice sounding tired. When she looked back at Derek, she was smiling a little. “I don’t think he’d react this well if he understood.”

“I understand you’re okay and that Uncle Peter is doing better, a lot better. Is it because you’re here? Are you his alpha now?”

“Having a pack around helped him,” Cora agreed.

“Laura abandoned me,” Peter added, his tone gone even harsher with rage. “You abandoned me to rot her.”

“Calm down,” Cora ordered, a tinge of alpha command in the two words. Derek felt his excitement and happiness slip away – calming him down -- from the force of it, even without recognizing Cora as his alpha. Peter’s face screwed up into a scowl but he subsided at her words. “Derek didn’t have a choice and Laura treated him just as badly. She kept him shifted for years. You know what that can do.”

“Deserves it,” Peter muttered and Derek flinched away from Peter. “He’s responsible too.”

“He also stood up and made sure the people who killed our family paid for it. _He’s_ the reason Kate Argent is dead.”

There were layers to the argument that Derek didn’t understand but it sounded like Peter blamed him for the fire. “It was my fault,” he stated firmly, hoping to cut off the fight. “I didn’t know and I didn’t mean it and – it took a long time to understand that I was used. But I was still responsible for letting her use me. I wanted to be normal so badly I didn’t even think twice about why she’d want to talk to me.” He set the cup down next to the food. “I didn’t even realize she was using me. I enjoyed it because she treated me like a person, not a reject, not a failure.” He met Cora’s wide, brown eyes before sliding his gaze to Peter’s cold blue ones. “I grew up,” he explained. “And I’m trying to make up for what I did wrong.” He flashed his wolf eyes at them and ignored Cora’s inhale at the blue, focusing instead on Peter’s more satisfied expression. “I’m a Hale, no matter what my shifted form looks like.”

Cora smiled sweetly at his words. “You’re a Hale,” she agreed. “And the Hales are different now. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I will too,” he promised both Cora and Peter. “We’ll work together. We’ll take the alpha status back where it belongs and remake our family, better, stronger.”

Peter laughed again. “You already remade our family, Derek.”

He tightened his jaw and nodded. “So we pick up the pieces and the three of us do it again, together this time.”

Cora reached over and gently ran her fingers along his jaw up to his hair, threading her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’ve already done that, Derek.” She was still smiling softly at him. “Now it’s time to remake you.”

The vestiges of her command to calm down wound away and he felt a sinking sensation in his gut.

Derek knew exactly what Peter was laughing about. Why Cora seemed sad.

“You killed Laura,” he whispered.

Cora kept threading her fingers through his hair as she talked. “It was Peter’s idea. We wanted to bring her here and confront her, make her give up the alpha status willingly to Uncle Peter so he could heal faster and better. We were going to give it back when Uncle Peter was better.” While her hands on his neck gentle as they traced spirals her face went hard and flat with anger.

“But the plan changed.” He wanted to move away from her fingers, move out of the room and run until the sick feeling in his stomach and the tightness in his chest disappeared. But the thing he had learned from Laura and all the running she’d done was that once you start, you never stop.

And Derek was ready to stop.

“I went to talk to her, let her know I was alive.” Cora told him softly. One of her hands drifted over to take Peter’s, connecting the three of them together with her touch. “She didn’t even recognize me.”

“So you killed her because she didn’t _recognize you_?”

“No!” Cora snapped at him, finally pulling her hand out of his hair. Her expression was wounded. “I would –“ She cut herself off and tilted her head toward the door, obviously listening.

Derek tuned his ears into the hallway and the clicking sound of high heels approaching the room and stopping outside the door. When the hospital room door opened, Derek was only half-surprised to see the figure of Lydia Martin standing there. Her eyes flicked over the three of them before sighing. Martin stepped into the room, shut the door behind her, and flicked her long curly red hair over her shoulder. “You promised I wouldn’t have to clean up any more of this mess, Cora.”

“You _don’t_ ,” Cora snapped but stood up and moved to wrap her arms around Martin and then _kiss_ her.

When the embrace ended, Martin pointed a manicured finger at Derek. “ _That_ does not look like ‘dealing with it.’”

“You stopped by in the middle of the explanation. I’m dealing with it, Lydia.” Cora pointed at the bags of food Derek brought. “Eat and let me deal with it.”

“Screw this up and make me move _another_ body and you’ll be sleeping on the couch for a week.”

Derek stared hard at his sister and her – her – _lover_ , the woman who ran the Lycan-Hunters. “What is she doing here?”

“Calm down, Derek.” There wasn’t an ounce of command in her tone this time. “Lydia’s a banshee.” When the Argents had exposed werewolves to the world, they hadn’t exposed any other supernaturals. But long-time hunters like the Argents knew they were out there and made the system inhospitable to anyone even the slightest bit not human – like banshees. “She’s been working to unravel the system from the inside and mitigate the damage it can do to us.”

“Didn’t stop the damage you did to Laura,” he gritted out.

“Laura deserved it,” Peter cut in.

She’d been a terrible alpha and an even worse sister but he didn’t think she deserved _death_. “She didn’t,” Derek contradicted. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Martin shaking her head and rolling her eyes at him as she stretched out on Uncle Peter’s bed.

“You know what she was planning on doing, Derek? Why she was coming back to Beacon Hills?” Cora raised her eyebrows at him expectantly, waiting for him to respond. He tightened his jaw and then shook his head. “I do. She told me.” Derek watched her cheeks redden and he felt the almost electrical crackle of her anger in the air. “She was going to kill Uncle Peter,” Cora spat out. “And she tried to kill me once I told her who I was. _That’s_ why I’m the alpha; she attacked me and I won.”

Laura had been a vicious fighter; Derek was impressed in spite of himself. “Why? Why would she do that?” He swallowed away the image of his sisters fighting but his throat felt like it was dry as a bone.

“Because she couldn’t start over without getting rid of dead weight,” Martin put in, her tone bored. “You’re dead weight. Your uncle is dead weight. _Cora_ is dead weight.” Cora glared at her but Martin didn’t look up from the magazine she was browsing.

“I don’t know the whole story,” Cora said. “It’s not like she stopped to explain much. Laura wanted to kill us and then join the Lycan-Hunters. That’s all I know.”

Derek jerked around to stare at Martin. “So that’s how _you_ got involved in this.”

She made an hmphing noise in the back of her throat. “Cora and I were dating before your sister contacted me.”

“Do you have any proof of this?” He crossed his arms over his chest and wondered about his chances of leaving the room without agreeing to bend to Cora’s will – or to kill his little sister.

“I have copies of her application and a video of her interview,” Martin said, still sounding bored.

“Which could be faked. Laura _hated_ the Lycan-Hunters.” Or she had, after Kate. Derek tried to ignore the seed of doubt as he thought about the long number of years it’d been since then.

“ _I_ think your sister went cuckoo and just wanted to make everyone else hurt as much as she did. She just stopped caring who she hurt and thought being a Hunter would be a good way to do it officially.” Martin finally looked up from her magazine, a vicious little smile on her face. “I think she wanted to take over for Kate Argent.”

He sucked in a breath and heard Cora do the same. “ _Lydia_ ,” she snapped harshly.

Martin tossed the magazine aside. “I don’t have time to coddle your brother’s delicate emotions, Cora. My time is more important than burying bodies. Force him or don’t but hurry up and make a decision.” She straightened, her expression hard as she met Cora’s glare.

Next to him Peter laughed, his voice stronger. “I like her,” he told Cora in a semi-whisper. “She reminds me of your mother.” He tilted his head slowly, eerily, around to stare at Martin. His eyes flicked down and then up. “In all the best ways.”

Martin made a disgusted face at Peter’s attention. “You _better_ make this worth my time later, Cora. I feel like I need a shower.”

“She’s right,” Cora told him softly. “Derek, it’s time to choose. Are you with me? Will you be my beta, work with me to restore the Hale name, take down the Argent system?” She leaned forward and ran her hand down Derek’s cheek. “ _Are you with me_?”

He let his eyes shut and breathed, letting the questions rolls over him, the touch soothe him in spite of himself. Cora was close enough and her guard was down. All he’d have to do is run his claws over her throat. It’d be _so_ easy. He could take the alpha status, take the _power_. He swallowed around images of how easy it would be, what he could do with that power, the family he could create, the changes he could bring. Derek could do it all and the only cost would be the sensation of his baby sister’s blood on his nails.

He opened his eyes and met Cora’s expectant, hopeful gaze. He gave the only answer he could and whispered, “Yes.”

Cora’s smile was brilliant as he eyes flared red. “Shift for me, Derek. All the way.”

He did as his alpha ordered and shifted but it… felt different. Leaner, smaller, in a way. Cora’s gasp at his form caused him to cock his head and jump out of the chair, padding into the bathroom to the mirror.

He was a wolf now, sleek and black, with blue eyes.

“You look like I remember Mom,” Cora said from behind him. She dropped to her knees next to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Welcome home, Derek.”

He tipped his head back against his alpha’s chest and howled. 


End file.
